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THE 


F  M  I  E  N  D: 


A    SERIES    OF    ESSAYS, 


TO  AID  IN  THE  FORMATION  OF  FIXED  PRINCIPLES 


IN  POLITICS,  MORALS,  AND  RELIGION, 


WITH 


LITERARY  AMUSEMENTS  INTERSPERSED. 


BY    S.    T.    COLERIDGE,    ESQ, 


Accipe  principium  rursus,   formamque  coactam 
Desere  :    mutata  melioi-  procede   figura. claudian. 


FIRST  AMERICAN,  FROM  THE  SECOND  LONDON  EDITION, 
COMPLETE  IN  ONE  VOLUME. 


4667T 

BURLINGTON : 

CHAUNCEY    GOODRICH. 
.  1831. 


Ai'^so  tfu  ■^^J'X/iC:  op(STOv,  o^sv  -^  ti'vi  Ta|Sj 

ZnrOA'STPOT  Aoyla. 


33:^7 


PREFACE 

TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITIOIV. 


The  general  character  and  purpose  of  the  work  here  offered 
to  the  American  public  are  to  some  extent  already  known 
among  us.  Many,  to  whom  it  has  itself  been  inaccessible, 
have  learned  enough  of  it  to  form  a  high  estimate  of  its  value, 
and  the  demand  for  it  of  late  is  such  as  to  show  that  their  num- 
ber is  increasing.  This  state  of  things  renders  a  republication 
of  the  work  obviously  desirable,  and  must  be  gratifying  to  those 
who  are  concerned  for  the  advancement  of  truth,  and  who  be- 
lieve this  work  to  contain  a  valuable  exhibition  of  some  of  its 
great  and  vital  principles.  When  nearly  two  years  ago  the 
"  Aids  to  Reflection,"  another  work  of  the  same  author,  came 
before  the  public,  there  were  many  occasions  of  doubt  with  re- 
gard to  its  probable  reception.  Those  doubts  are  now  remo- 
ved. The  result  has  justified  the  most  flattering  anticipations, 
and  furnishes  abundant  proof,  that  the  "  fit  audience"  to  be 
found  among  us  for  works  of  this  kind  is  not  so  small  as  had 
been  apprehended.  Indeed  the  manner  in  which  that  work 
has  been  received,  the  sentiments  which  it  has  awakened,  and 
the  class  of  persons  whose  attention  has  been  specially  direct- 
ed to  it,  are  such  as  furnish  the  best  security  for  the  success  of 
similar  works  in  future.  The  work  now  republished,  though 
not  fitted  in  some  respects  to  excite  so  deep  an  interest,  will  be 
found,  like  that,  concerned  with  the   developemcnt   of  funda- 


vi 

mental  principles,  and  essentially  connected  with  the  same 
Tiews  of  truth.  It  was  designed  obviously  for  more  general 
circulation,  and  great  pains  -were  taken  by  the  author,  both  to 
render  his  views  intelligible,  and  to  gain  the  attention  of  all, 
who  W'Ore  capable  of  understanding  them.  To  those  who  have 
become  acquainted  with  the  "Aids  to  Reflection,"  it  will  be 
acceptable  both  for  its  own  sake  and  as  a  help  in  the  study  of 
that  work.  To  every  scholar,  and  indeed  to  every  man,  who 
would  rightly  apprehend  the  general  principles  and  grounds  of 
obligation  in  politics,  morals,  and  religion,  it  will  be  found  a 
safe  and  invaluable  guide. 

The  edition  now  offered  is  simply  a  reprint  of  the  English. 
It  was  indeed  intended  to  prefix  an  Essay  of  a  general  charac- 
ter on  the  philosophical  system  of  the  author ;  but  the  design 
was  abandoned,  from  a  conviction  that  nothing  worthy  of  the 
subject  could  be  given  in  the  limits  contemplated,  or  without 
more  time  and  labour  than  could  now  be  devoted  to  its  prepa- 
ration. I  shall  therefore  merely  take  the  occasion  to  remark, 
that  his  system  is  by  no  means,  as  some  have  alleged,  essen- 
tially the  same  with  that  of  Kant.  Although  he  acknowledges 
his  obligations  to  the  writings  of  that  philosopher,  he  is  himself 
sufficiently  careful  to  inform  us,  that  in  regard  to  points  of  the 
highest  importance  he  follows  a  very  different  teacher.  He  dif- 
ers  from  him,  as  Cudworth  and  More  and  the  Platonizing  divines 
of  the  same  age  generally  w^ould  have  differed,  and  as  some  of 
the  most  eminent  German  philosophers,  as  well  as  Tholuck 
and  other  evangelical  divines,  of  the  present  day,  diifer  from 
him  in  their  philosophical  and  theological  views.  Between  the 
views  of  Prof.  Tholuck  and  those  of  Coleridge,  indeed,  there  is 
a  very  striking  coincidence,  as  must  have  been  obvious  to  all, 
who  are  acquainted  with  the  writings  of  both.  This  fact,  con- 
sidering the  high  reputation  which  Prof.  Tholuck  has  in  this 
country,  as  an  evangelical  and  zealous  divine,  I  trust  may  serve 
in  some  degree  to  diminish  the  fears,  which  good  men  still  in- 
dulge respecting  the  tendency  of  such  speculations.     The  pre- 


Vll 

sent  volume  however  contains  little  to  excite  the  fears  of   any 
with  regard  to  the   doctrines  of  religion.     But  in  its  bearing 
upon  the  general  principles  of  philosophy  received  among  us,  it 
will  be  found  of  the  same   character  with  all  the  works  of  its 
author,  and  I  trust  may  be  instrumental  in  hastening  the  change, 
which  is  already  taking  place,  in  our  views  of  logic  and  meta- 
physics.    The  Essays  in  which  he  vindicates  the  philosophy  of 
Lord  Bacon  from  the  prevailing  misapprehensions  of  its  charac- 
ter, by  showing  its  coincidence  with  that  of  Plato,  are  especially 
valuable  in  this  point  of  view  ;  and  I  could  only  wish,  that  those 
who  read  them  would  examine  for  themselves  and  without  pre- 
judice the  language  of  Lord  Bacon  in  regard  to  the  great  princi- 
ples  of  philosophy.     It  is  now   no  longer  hazardous  to  one's 
reputation  to  call  in  question  the   authority  of  those  philoso- 
phers who  have  been  most  popular   among  us;    and  the  article 
on  Brown's  theory  of  perception  in  a  late  number  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Review  shows,  that  language  and  thoughts  derived  from 
German  metaphysics  may  now  be  used  to   a  much  greater  ex- 
tent, than  they  have  been  done  by  Coleridge — in  a  work,  where 
formerly  they   would  have  been   rejected  with  contumely.     It 
shows,  too — what  is  more  important — the  ignorance  and  incon- 
sistency betrayed  in  a  system,  that  is  still  received  in   some  of 
our  schools,  but  which  it  is  to  be  hoped  will  give  place  to  works 
less  exposed  to  critical  reproach.     A  perusal  of  that  article,  and 
a  little  reflection  upon  this  and  other  things  of  a  like   kind,  as 
indicating  the  tendency  of  present  inquiries  in  Great   Britian 
and  this  country,  may    convince   us,   that   one   who   would  be 
thought  not   ignorant   of  philosophy   hereafter,    must   acquaint 
himself  with  something  beyond   the   empiricism,  which  has  so 
long  assumed  its  name  among  us.     It  need  not  now  be  inqui- 
red, whether  the  Friend  and  other  works  of  Coleridge  are  fit- 
ted in  the  best  possible  manner  to  supply  our  deficiencies  and 
guide  us  to  a  better  knowledge.     They  are  believed  by  many, 
who  are  well  qualified  to  judge,   to  be   the  best  we  have,  and 
calculated  at  least  to  cherish  an  ingenuous  and  earnest  love 


via 

oi  the  truth  for  the  truth's  sake.  As  such,  the  present  volume 
commends  itself  to  all  who  will  attentively  peruse  it,  but  es- 
pecially to  the  young  men  of  our  Colleges  and  higher  schools. 
At  that  period,  when — more  than  at  any  other — they  are  forming 
principles  both  of  thought  and  action,  and  establishing — if  they 
ever  do  so — a  character  of  their  own,  they  will  find  it  a  wise 
monitor  and  a  faithful  "  Friend." 

J.  Marsh. 

University  of  Vermont, 
November,  1831. 


EPISTLE    DEDICATORY. 


Friend  !  were  an  Author  privileged  to  name  his  own  judge — 
in  addition  to  moral  and  intellectual  competence,  I  should  look 
round  for  some  man,  whose  knowledge  and  opinions  had  for 
the  greater  part  been  acquired  experimentally  :  and  the  practi- 
cal habits  of  whose  life  had  put  him  on  his  guard  with  respect 
to  all  speculative  reasoning,  without  rendering  him  insensible 
to  the  desirableness  of  principles  more  secure  than  the  shifting 
rules  and  theories  generalized  from  observations  merely  empi- 
rical, or  unconscious  in  how  many  departments  of  knowledge, 
and  with  how"  large  a  portion  even  of  professional  men,  such 
principles  are  still  a  desideratum.  I  would  select  too  one  who 
felt  kindly,  nay,  even  partially,  toward  me  ;  but  one  whose  par- 
tiality had  its  strongest  foundations  in  hope,  and  more  prospec- 
tive than  retrospective  would  make  him  quick-sighted  in  the 
detection,  and  unreserved  in  the  exposure  of  the  deficiencies 
and  defects  of  each  present  work,  in  the  anticipation  of  a  more 
developed  future.  In  you,  honored  Friend  !  I  have  found  all 
these  requisites  combined  and  realized :  and  the  improvement, 
which  these  Essays  have  derived  from  your  judgment  and  ju- 
dicious suggestions,  would,  of  itself,  have  justified  me  in  ac- 
companying them  with  a  public  acknowledgment  of  the  same. 
1 


But  knowing,  as  you  cannot  but  know,  that  I  owe  in  great 
measure  the  power  of  having  written  at  all  to  your  medical 
skill,  and  to  the  characteristic  good  sense  which  directed  its 
exertion  in  my  behalf;  and  whatever  I  may  have  written  in 
happier  vein,  to  the  influence  of  your  society  and  to  the  daily 
proofs  of  your  disinterested  attachment — knowing  too,  in  how 
entire  a  sympathy  with  your  feelings  in  this  respect  the  partner 
of  your  name  has  blended  the  affectionate  regards  of  a  sister  or 
daughter  with  almost  a  mother's  watchful  and  unwearied  soli- 
citude alike  for  my  health,  interest,  and  tranquillity  ; — you  will 
not,  I  trust,  be  pained,  you  ought  not,  I  am  sure,  to  be  surpris- 
ed that 


TO 

MR.  AND  MRS.  GIL.L.MAN, 

OF  HIGHGATE, 
THESE  VOLUMES  ARE  DEDICATED, 

IN   TESTIMOJfY   OF    HIGH 

RESPECT 
AND  GRATEFUL.   AFFECTION,  BY  THEIR 

FRIEND, 

S.  T.  COLERIDGE. 


October  7,  1818. 
Highgate. 


THE    FRIEND, 


ESSAY  I. 


Creek  mthi,  non  est  parvwJidiicuB,  poUiceri  opem  decertantibus,  consilium  dubiis^ 
lumen  ccecis,  spem  dejedis,  refrigtriumfessis.  Magna  quidem  hwc  simt  sijiant; 
parva,  si  pTomittantur.  Verum  ego  non  tarn,  aliis  legem  ponam,  quam  legem 
vohis  mece  propria  mentis  exponam :  quam  qui  prohaverit,  ieneat ;  cui  non  pla- 
ctieiit,  abjiciat.     Optarem,  fcdeor^  talis  esse,  qui  prodesse  possem  quam plurimis. 

Petrarch:  "Do  Vita  Solitarin." 


Antecedent  to  all  History,  and  long  glimmering  through  it 
as  a  holy  Tradition,  there  presents  itself  to  our  imagination  an 
indefinite  period,  dateless  as  Eternity,  a  State  rather  than  a 
Time.  For  even  the  sense  of  succession  is  lost  in  the  unifor- 
mity of  the  stream. 

It  was  toward  the  close  of  this  golden  age  (the  memory  of 
which  the  self-dissatisfied  Race  of  Men  have  everywhere  pre- 
served and  cherished)  when  Conscience  acted  in  Man  with 
the  ease  and  uniformity  of  Instinct ;  when  Labor  was  a  sweet 
name  for  the  activity  of  sane  Minds  in  healthful  Bodies,  and 
all  enjoyed  in  common  the  bounteous  harvest  produced,  and 
gathered  in,  by  common  effort ;  when  there  existed  in  the 
Sexes,  and  in  the  Individuals  of  each  Sex,  just  variety  enough 
to  permit  and  call  forth  the  gentle  restlessness  and  final  union 
of  chaste  love  and  individual  attachment,  each  seeking  and 
finding  the  beloved  one  by  the  natural  afiinity  of  their  Beings  ; 
when  the  dread  Sovereign  of  the  Universe  was  known  only  as 
the  universal  Parent,  no  Altar  but  the  pure  Heart,  and  Thanks- 
giving and  grateful  Love  the  sole  Sacrifice 

In  this  blest  age  of  dignified  Innocence  one  of  their  honored 


Elders,  whose  absence  they  were  beginning  to  notice,  entered 
with  hurrying  steps  the  place  of  their  common  assemblage  at 
noon,  and  instantly  attracted  the  general  attention  and  wonder 
by  the  perturbation  of  his  gestures,  and  by  a  strange  trouble 
both  in  his  eyes  and  over  his  whole  countenance.  After  a  short 
but  deep  silence,  when  the  first  buzz  of  varied  inquiry  was  be- 
coming audible,  the  old  man  moved  toward  a  small  eminence, 
and  having  ascended  it,  he  thus  addressed  the  hushed  and  lis- 
tening company. 

"  In  the  warmth  of  the  approaching  mid-day,  as  I  was  repo- 
sing in  the  vast  cavern,  out  of  which,  from  its  northern  portal, 
issues  the  river  that  winds  through  our  vale,  a  voice  powerful, 
yet  not  from  its  loudness,  suddenly  hailed  me.  Guided  by  my 
ear  I  looked  toward  the  supposed  place  of  the  sound  for  some 
Form,  from  which  it  had  proceeded.  I  beheld  nothing  but  the 
glimmering  walls  of  the  cavern.  Again,  as  I  was  turning  round, 
the  same  voice  hailed  me  :  and  whithersoever  I  turned  my  face, 
thence  did  the  voice  seem  to  proceed.  I  stood  still  therefore, 
and  in  reverence  awaited  its  continuation.  '  Sojourner  of  Earth! 
(these  were  its  words)  hasten  to  the  meeting  of  thy  Brethren, 
and  the  words  which  thou  now  hearest,  the  same  do  thou  re- 
peat unto  them.  On  the  thirtieth  morn  from  the  morrow's  sun- 
rising,  and  during  the  space  of  thrice  three  days  and  thrice  three 
nights,  a  thick  cloud  will  cover  the  sky,  and  a  heavy  rain  fall 
on  the  earth.  Go  ye  therefore,  ere  the  thirtieth  sun  ariseth, 
retreat  to  the  cavern  of  the  river  and  there  abide,  till  the  clouds 
have  passed  away  and  the  rain  be  over  and  gone.  For  know 
ye  of  a  certainty  that  whomever  that  rain  wetteth,  on  him,  yea, 
on  him  and  on  his  children's  children  will  fall — the  spirit  of 
Madness.'  Yes  !  Madness  was  the  word  of  the  voice :  what 
this  be,  I  know  not !  But  at  the  sound  of  the  word  trembling 
came  upon  me,  and  a  feeling  which  I  would  not  have  had  ;  and 
I  remained  even  as  ye  beheld  and  now  behold  me." 

The  old  man  ended,  and  retired.  Confused  murmurs  suc- 
ceeded, and  wonder,  and  doubt.  Day  followed  day,  and  every 
day  brought  with  it  a  diminution  of  the  awe  impressed.  They 
could  attach  no  image,  no  remembered  sensations  to  the  threat. 
The  ominous  morn  arrived,  the  Prophet  had  retired  to  the  ap- 
pointed cavern,  and  there  remained  alone  during  the  appointed 
time.  On  the  tenth  morning,  he  emerged  from  his  place  of 
shelter,  and  sought  his  friends  and  brethren.     But  alas !  how 


affrightful  the  change  !  Instead  of  the  common  children  of  one 
great  family,  working  towards  the  same  aim  by  reason,  even  as 
the  bees  in  their  hives  by  instinct,  he  looked  and  beheld,  here 
a  miserable  wretch  watching  over  a  heap  of  hard  and  unnutri- 
tious  substances,  which  he  had  dug  out  of  the  eeirth,  at  the  cost 
of  mangled  limbs  and  exhausted  faculties.  This  he  appeared 
to  worship,  at  this  he  gazed,  even  as  the  youths  of  the  vale  had 
been  accustomed  to  gaze  at  their  chosen  virgins  in  the  first 
season  of  their  choice.  There  he  saw  a  former  companion 
speeding  on  and  panting  after  a  butterfly,  or  a  withered  leaf 
whirling  onward  in  the  breeze ;  and  another  with  pale  and  dis- 
torted countenance  following  close  behind,  and  still  stretching 
forth  a  dagger  to  stab  his  precursor  in  the  back.  In  another 
place  he  observed  a  whole  troop  of  his  fellow-men  famishing 
and  in  fetters,  yet  led  by  one  of  their  brethren  who  had  ensla- 
ved them,  and  pressing  furiously  onwards  in  the  hope  of  fam- 
ishing and  enslaving  another  troop  moving  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion. For  the  first  time,  the  Prophet  missed  his  accustomed 
power  of  distinguishing  between  his  dreams  and  his  waking 
perceptions.  He  stood  gazing  and  motionless,  when  several 
of  the  race  gathered  around  him,  and  enquired  of  each  other, 
who  is  this  man  ?  how  strangely  he  looks  !  how  wild  ! — a  worth- 
less idler  !  exclaims  one  :  assuredly,  a  very  dangerous  madman! 
cries  a  second.  In  short,  from  words  they  proceeded  to  vio- 
lence ^^1  harassed,  endangered,  solitary  in  a  world  of  forms 
like  his  own,  without  sympathy,  without  object  of  love,  he  at 
length  espied  in  some  foss  or  furrow  a  quantity  of  the  madden- 
ing water  still  unevaporated,  and  uttering  the  last  words  of 
reason.  It  is  in  vain  to  be  sane  in  a  world  of  madmen, 
plunged  and  rolled  himself  in  the  liquid  poison,  and  came  out 
as  mad  and  not  more  wretched  than  his  neighbors  and  acquaint- 
ance. 

The  plan  of  The  friend  is  comprized  in  the  motto  to   this 
Essay.*     This  tale  or  allegory  seems  to  me  to  contain  the  ob- 


*  [Translation.) — Believe  me,  it  requires  no  little  confidence,  to  promise 
Help  to  the  Struggling,  Counsel  to  the  Doubtful,  Light  to  the  Blind,  Hope  to 
the  Despondent,  Refieshment  to  the  Weary.  These  are  indeed  great  things, 
if  they  be  accomplished  ;  trifles  if  they  exist  but  in  a  promise.  I  however 
Sim  not  so  much  to  j)rescribe  a  Law  for  others,  as  to  set  forth  the  Law  of 
my  own  Mind  ;  which  let  the  man,  who  shall  h.ave  approved  of  it,  abide  by  ; 


8 

jections  to  its  practicability  in  all  their  strength.  Either,  says 
the  Sceptic,  you  are  the  Blind  offering  to  lead  the  Blind,  or 
you  are  talking  the  language  of  Sight  to  those  who  do  not  pos- 
sess the  sense  of  seeing.  If  you  mean  to  be  read,  try  to  en- 
tertain and  do  not  pretend  to  instruct.  To  such  objections  it 
would  be  amply  sufficient,  on  my  system  of  faith,  to  answer, 
that  we  are  not  all  blind,  but  all  subject  to  distempers  of  "  the 
mental  sight,"  differing  in  kind  and  in  degree  ;  that  though  all 
men  are  in  error,  they  are  not  all  in  the  same  error,  nor  at  the 
.  same  time  ;  and  that  each  therefore  may  possibly  heal  the  other, 
even  as  two  or  more  physicians,  all  diseased  in  their  general 
health  yet  under  the  immediate  action  of  the  disease  on  dif- 
ferent days,  may  remove  or  alleviate  the  complaints  of  each 
other.  But  in  respect  to  the  entertainingness  of  moral  writings, 
if  in  entertainment  be  included  whatever  delights  the  imagi- 
nation or  affects  the  generous  passions,  so  far  from  rejecting 
such  a  mean  of  persuading  the  human  soul,  my  very  system 
compels  me  to  defend  not  only  the  propriety  but  the  absolute 
necessity  of  adopting  it,  if  we  really  intend  to  render  our  fel- 
low-creatures better  or  wiser. 

But  it  is  with  dullness  as  with  obscurity.  It  may  be  posi- 
tive, and  the  author's  fault ;  but  it  may  likewise  be  relative,  and 
if  the  author  has  presented  his  bill  of  fare  at  the  portal,  the 
reader  has  himself  only  to  blame.  The  main  question  then  is, 
of  what  class  are  the  persons  to  be  entertained  ? — "  One  of  the 
later  schools  of  the  Grecians  (says  Lord  Bacon)  is  at  a  stand  to 
think  what  should  be  in  it  that  men  should  love  lies,  where 
neither  they  make  for  pleasure,  as  with  poets  ;  nor  for  advan- 
tage, as  with  the  merchant;  but  for  the  lie's  sake.  I  cannot  tell 
why,  this  same  truth  is  a  naked  and  open  day-light,  that  doth 
not  shew  the  masques  and  mummeries  and  triumphs  of  the 
present  world  half  so  stately  and  daintily,  as  candle-lights. 
Truth  may  perhaps  come  to  the  price  of  a  pearl,  that  sheweth 
best  by  day  ;  but  it  will  not  rise  to  the  price  of  a  diamond  or 
carbuncle,  which  sheweth  best  in  varied  lights.  A  mixture  of 
lies  doth  ever  add  pleasure.     Doth  any  man  doubt,  that  if  there 


and  let  liiin,  to  ■whom  it  shall  appear  not  reasonable,  reject  it.  It  i.?  iny  earn- 
est wish,  I  confess,  to  employ  my  understanding  and  acquirements  in  that 
mode  and  direction,  in  which  I  may  bo  enabled  to  benefit  the  largest  number 
possible  of  my  fellow-rreatures. 


were  taken  from  men's  minds  vain  opinions,  flattering  hopes, 
false  valuations,  imaginations  as  one  ivould,  and  the  like  vinum 
Daemonum  (as  a  Father  calleth  poetry)  but  it  would  leave  the 
minds  of  a  number  of  men  poor  shrunken  things,  full  of  me- 
lancholy and  indisposition,  and  unpleasing  to  themselves?" 

A  melancholy,  a  too  general,  but  not,  I  trust,  a  universal 
truth  ! — and  even  where  it  does  apply,  yet  in  many  instances 
not  irremediable.  Such  at  least  must  have  been  my  persuasion  : 
or  the  present  volumes  must  have  been  wittingly  written  to  no 
purpose.  If  I  belived  our  nature  fettered  to  all  this  wretched- 
ness of  head  and  heart  by  an  absolute  and  innate  necessity,  at 
least  by  a  necessity  which  no  human  power,  no  efforts  of  rea- 
son or  eloquence  could  remove  or  lessen  ;  I  should  deem  it 
even  presumptuous  to  aim  at  other  or  higher  object  than  that  of 
amusing  a  small  portion  of  the  reading  public. 

And  why  not  ?  whispers  wordly  prudence.  To  amuse 
though  only  to  amuse  our  visitors  is  wisdom  as  well  as  good- 
nature, where  it  is  presumption  to  attempt  their  amendment. 
And  truly  it  would  be  most  convenient  to  me  in  respects  of  no 
trifling  importance,  if  I  could  persuade  myself  to  take  the  ad- 
vice. Relaxed  by  these  principles  from  all  moral  obligation, 
and  ambitious  of  procuring  pastime  and  self-oblivion  for  a  race, 
which  could  have  nothing  noble  to  remember,  nothing  desirable 
to  anticipate,  I  might  aspire  even  to  the  praise  of  the  critics 
and  dilettante  of  the  higher  circles  of  society  ;  of  some  trusty 
guide  of  blind  fashion  ;  some  pleasant  Analyst  of  Taste,  as  it 
exists  both  in  the  palate  and  the  soul ;  some  living  guage  and 
mete-wand  of  past  and  present  genius.  But  alas  !  my  former 
studies  would  still  have  left  a  wrong  bias !  If  instead  of  per- 
plexing my  common  sense  with  the  flights  of  Plato,  and  of  stiffen- 
ing over  the  meditations  of  the  imperial  Stoic,  I  had  been  labor- 
ing to  imbibe  the  gay  spirit  of  a  Casti,  or  had  employed  my 
erudition,  for  the  benefit  of  the  favored  few,  in  elucidating  the 
interesting  deformities  of  ancient  Greece  and  India,  what  might 
I  not  have  hoped  from  the  suffi-age  of  those,  who  turn  in  weari- 
ness from  the  Paradise  Lost, — because  compared  with  the  pru- 
rient heroes  and  grotesque  monsters  of  Italian  Romance,  or  even 
with  the  narrative  dialogues  of  the  melodious  Metastasio, — that 
— "Adventurous  Song, 

"  Which  justifies  the  ways  of  God  to  Man" 
2 


10 

has  been  found  a  poor  substitute  for  Grimaldi,  a  most  inapt 
medicine  for  an  occasional  propensity  to  yawn  ?  For,  as  hath 
been  decided,  to  fdl  up  pleasantly  the  brief  intervals  of  fash- 
ionable pleasures,  and  above  all  to  charm  away  the  dusky 
Gnome  of  Ennui,  is  the  chief  and  appropriate  business  of  the 
Poet  and — the  Novelist !  This  duty  unfulfilled,  Appollo  will 
have  lavished  his  best  gifts  in  vain  ;  and  Urania  henceforth 
must  be  content  to  inspire  Astronomers  alone,  and  leave  the 
Sons  of  Verse  to  more  amusive  Patronesses.  And  yet — and 
yet — but  it  will  be  time  to  be  serious,  when  my  visitors  have 
sat  Joivn, 


ESSAY   II. 


Sic  opoiiet  ad  lihnim,  presertim  miscellanei  generis,  legendum  accedere  ledorem,  id 
solet  ad  convivium  conviva  civilis.  Convivaior  annilitur  omnibus  satis/acere  : 
et  tamen  si  quid  apponitur,  quod  hajus  aut  illius  palato  nan  respondeat,  et  hie 
d  ilk  urbane  dissimidant,  et  alia  fercida  probant,  ne  quid  confristent  convivato- 
rem.  Quis  enim  cum  convivam  ferat,  qui  tantum  hoc  animo  veniat  ad  mensam, 
ut  carpens  qua.  apponuntur  nee  vescatur  ipse,  nee  alios  vesci  sinat  ?  et  tamen  his 
quoque  reperias  inciviliores,  qui  pcdani,  qui  sine  fine  damnent  ac  lacerent  opus, 
quod  nunquam  legerint.  Jlst  hoc  plusquam  sycophanticum  est  damnare  quod 
nescias.  Erasmus. 

The  musician  may  tune  his  instrument  in  private,  ere  his 
audience  have  yet  assembled  ;  the  architect  conceals  the  foun- 
dation of  his  building  beneath  the  superstructure.  But  an  au- 
thor's harp  must  be  tuned  in  the  hearing  of  those,  who  are 
to  understand  its  after  harmonies  ;  the  foundation  stones  of  his 
edifice  must  lie  open  to  common  view,  or  his  friends  will  hesi- 
tate to  trust  themselves  beneath  the  roof. 

From  periodical  Literature  the  general  Reader  deems  him- 
self entitled  to  expect  amusement,  and  some  degree  of  infor- 
mation ;  and  if  the  Writer  can  convey  any  instruction  at  the 
same  time  and  without  demanding  any  additional  thought  (as 
the  Irishmen,  in  the  hackneyed  jest,  is  said  to  have  passed  off 
a  light  guinea  between  two  halfpence)  this  supererogatory 
merit  will  not  perhaps  be  taken  amiss.  Now  amusement  in 
and  for  itself  may  be  afforded  by  the  gratification  either  of  the 
curiosity  or  of  the  passions.  I  use  the  former  word  as  distin- 
guished from  the  love  of  knowledge,  and  the  latter  in  distinc- 
tion from  those  emotions  which  arise  in  well-ordered  minds, 
from  the  perception  of  truth  or  falsehood,  virtue  or  vice : — 
emotions,  which  are  always  preceded  by  thought,  and  linked 
with  improvement.  Again,  all  information  pursued  without 
any  wish  of  becoming  wiser  or  better  thereby,  I  class  among 
the  gratifications  of  mere  curiosity,  whether  it  be   sought  for 


12 

in  a  light  Novel  or  a  grave  History.  We  may  therefore  oinit 
the  word  Information,  as  included  either  in  Amusement  or  in- 
struction. 

The  present  Work  is  an  experiment;  not  whether  a  writer 
may  honestly  overlook  the  one,  or  successfully  omit  the  other, 
of  the  two  elements  themselves,  wliich  serious  Readers  at 
least  persuade  themselves,  they  pursue  ;  but  whether  a  change 
might  not  be  hazarded  of  the  usual  order ^  in  which  periodical 
writers  have  in  general  attempted  to  convey  them.  Having 
myself  experienced  that  no  delight  either  in  kind  or  degree, 
was  equal  to  that  which  accompanies  the  distinct  perception  of 
a  fundamental  truth,  relative  to  our  moral  being ;  having,  long 
after  the  completion  of  what  is  ordinarily  called  a  learned  edu- 
cation, discovered  a  new  world  of  intellectual  profit  opening  on 
me — not  from  any  new  opinions,  but  lying,  as  it  were,  at  the 
roots  of  those  which  I  had  been  taught  in  childhood  in  my  Cate- 
chism and  Spelling-book ;  there  arose  a  soothing  hope  in  my 
mind  that  a  lesser  Public  might  be  found,  composed  of  persons 
susceptible  of  the  same  delight,  and  desirous  of  attaining  it  by 
the  same  process.  I  heard  a  whisper  too  from  within,  (I  trust 
that  it  proceeded  from  Conscience  not  Vanity)  that  a  duty  was 
performed  in  the  endeavor  to  render  it  as  much  easier  to  them, 
than  it  had  been  to  me,  as  could  be  effected  by  the  united  ef- 
forts of  my  understanding  and  imagination.* 


*In  coiifonnity  with  this  anxious  wish  I  shall  make  no  apology  for  sub- 
joining a  Translation  of  my  fllotto  to  this  Essay. 

(Translation.)  A  reader  sliotild  sit  down  to  a  book,  especially  of  the  mis- 
cellaneous kind  as  a  well-behaved  visitor  does  to  a  banquet.  The  master  of 
the  feasts  exerts  himself  to  satisfy  all  his  guests;  but  if  afler  all  his  care  and 
pains  there  should  still  be  something  or  other  put  on  the  table  that  does  not 
suit  this  or  that  person's  taste,  they  politely  pass  it  over  without  noticing  the 
circtunstance,  and  commend  other  dishes,  that  they  may  not  distress  thcu- 
kind  host,  or  throw  any  damj)  oji  his  spiiits.  For  who  could  tolerate  a  guest 
that  arceptefl  an  invitation  to  your  tal)lc  with  no  other  purpose  but  that  of 
finding  fiidt  with  everything  put  before  him,  neither  eating  himself,  or  suffer- 
ing others  to  cat  in  comfort.  And  yet  you  may  fall  in  with  a  still  worse  set 
than  even  these,— A\ith  churls  that  in  all  com])anies  and  without  stop  or  stay 
will  condemn  an«l  jjull  to  pieces  a  work  which  they  had  never  read,  liut 
this  sinks  below  tlic  baseness  of  an  /^(/brmfr,  yea,  though  he  were  a  false  wit- 
ness to  boot!  The  man,  who  abuses  a  thing  of  whicli  he  is  utterly  ignorant, 
unites  the  infamy  of  both— and  in  addition  to  this,  makes  liimself  the  pander 
and  sycophant  of  his  own  and  other  men's  envy  and  malignity. 


18 

Actuated  by  this  impulse,  the  Writer  wishes,  in  the  follow- 
ing Essays,  to  convey  not  instruction  merely,  but  fundamental 
instruction ;  not  so  much  to  shew  my  Reader  this  or  that  fact, 
as  to  kindle  his  own  torch  for  him,  and  leave  it  to  himself  to 
choose  the  particular  objects,  which  he  might  wish  to  examine 
by  its  light.  The  Friend  does  not  indeed  exclude  from  his  plan 
occasional  interludes ;  and  vacations  of  innocent  entertain- 
ment and  promiscuous  information,  but  still  in  the  main  he  pro- 
poses to  himself  the  communication  of  such  delight  as  rewards 
the  march  of  Truth,  rather  than  to  collect  the  flowers  which  di- 
versify its  track,  in  order  to  present  them  apart  from  the  home- 
ly yet  foodful  or  medicinable  herbs,  among  which  they  had 
grown.  To  refer  men's  opinions  to  their  absolute  principles, 
and  thence  their  feelings  to  the  appropriate  objects,  and  in  their 
due  degrees ;  and  finally,  to  apply  the  principles  thus  ascertain- 
ed, to  the  formation  of  steadfast  convictions  concerning  the  most 
important  questions  of  Politics,  Morality,  and  Religion — these 
are  to  be  the  objects  and  the  contents  of  this  work. 

Themes  like  these  not  even  the  genius  of  a  Plato  or  a  Ba- 
con could  render  intelligible,  without  demanding  from  the 
reader  thought  sometimes,  and  attention  generally.  By 
THOUGHT  I  here  mean  the  voluntary  production  in  our  own 
minds  of  those  states  of  consciousness,  to  which,  as  to  his  fun- 
damental facts,  the  Writer  has  referred  us ;  while  attentigst 
has  for  its  object  the  order  and  connection  of  Thoughts  and 
Images,  each  of  which  is  in  itself  already  and  familiarly  known. 
Thus  the  elements  of  Geometry  require  attention  only  ;  but 
the  analysis  of  our  primary  faculties,  and  the  investigation  of 
all  the  absolute  grounds  of  Religion  and  Morals,  are  impossible 
without  energies  of  thought  in  addition  to  the  effort  of  Atten- 
tion. The  Friend  will  not  attempt  to  disguise  from  his  Readers 
that  both  Attention  and  Thought  are  Efforts,  and  the  latter  a 
most  difficult  and  laborious  Efibrt ;  nor  from  himself,  that  to 
require  it  often  or  for  any  continuance  of  time  is  incompatible 
with  the  nature  of  the  present  Publication,  even  were  it  less 
incongruous  than  it  unfortunately  is  with  the  present  habits  and 
pursuits  of  Englishmen.  Accordingly  I  shall  be  on  my  guard 
to  make  the  Numbers  as  few  as  possible,  which  would  require 
from  a  well  educated  Reader  any  energy  of  thought  and  volun- 
tary abstraction. 

But  Attention,  I  confess,  will  be  requisite  throughout,  except 


14 

in  tlie  excursive  and  miscellaneous  Essays  that  will  be  found 
interposed  between  each  of  the  three  main  divisions  of  the 
Work.  On  whatever  subject  the  mind  feels  a  lively  interest, 
attention  though  always  an  effort,  becomes  a  delightful  eflbrt. 
I  should  be  quite  at  ease,  could  I  secure  for  the  whole  Work  as 
much  of  it,  as  a  card  party  of  earnest  whist-players- often  ex- 
pend in  a  single  evening,  or  a  lady  in  the  making-up  of  a  fash- 
ionable dress.  But  where  no  interest  previously  exists,  atten- 
tion (as  every  schoolmaster  knows)  can  be  procured  only  by 
terror  :  which  is  the  true  reason  why  the  majority  of  mankind 
learn  nothing  systematically,  except  as  school-boys  or  apprenti- 
ces. 

Happy  shall  I  be,  from  other  motives  besides  those  of  self- 
interest,  if  no  fault  or  deficiency  on  my  part  shall  prevent  the 
Work  from  furnishing  a  presumptive  proof,  that  there  are  still 
to  be  found  among  us  a  respectable  number  of  Readers  who 
are  desirous  to  derive  pleasure  from  the  consciousness  of  be- 
ing instructed  or  ameliorated  ,  and  who  feel  a  sufficient  interest 
as  to  the  foundations  of  their  own  opinions  in  Literature,'  Poli- 
tics, Morals,  and  Religion,  to  afford  that  degree  of  attention, 
without  which,  however  men  may  deceive  themselves,  no  ac- 
tual progress  ever  was  or  ever  can  be  made  in  that  knowledge, 
which  supplies  at  once  both  strength  and  nourishment. 


ESSAY    III. 


^yflX"  'ojg  nagila^op  rrfv  rixvrjv  nagu   aov~  xonqbTTOV   fisv  bv'S'v  g 
OlSov'aav'vTTo'  xofinacr/ita'Tbtv,  icctl ' qtj fi a  ra)v,  inaxS-orv, 
"laxvavu  /.ib^v  Ttgot'jiaTOv  u'vtt^'v,  y.al  r&  ^u' gog^aqieikov, 
'EnvXXioig  y.al  TiegiTtu'ioig  xul  revrXioicri  fziagoig 
XvWy  dtSov'g  azoj/J-vlfiu'roiv,  ^ano"  ^iBllojy,  'aTttj&Oj'^'. 

Aristoph.    Ran^. 

Imitation.* 

When  I  received  the  Muse  from  you,  I  found  her  puffed  and  pampered, 
With  pompous  sentences  and  terms,  a  cumb'rous  huge  virago. 
My  first  attention  was  applied  to  make  her  look  genteelly, 
And  bring  her  to  a  moderate  bulk  by  dint  of  lighter  diet. 
I  fed  her  with  plain  household  phrase,  and  cool  familiar  sallad, 
With  water-gruel  episode,  with  sentimental  jelly, 
With  moral  mince-meat:  till  at  length  I  brought  her  within  compass. 

Frere. 

In  the  preceding  Number  I  named  the  present  undertaking 
an  Experiment.  The  explanation  will  be  found  in  the  follow- 
ing Letter,  written  to  a  Correspondent  during  the  first  attempt, 
and  before  the  plan  was  discontinued  from  an  original  error 
in  the  mode  of  circulation,  as  noticed  in  the  Preface. 

To  R.  L. 
Dear  Sir, 

When  I  first  undertook  the  present  Publication  for  the  sake 

*This  Imitation  is  printed  here  by  permission  of  the  Author,  from  a  Series 
of  free  Translations  of  selected  Scenes  from  Arisrophanes  :  a  work,  of  which 
[should  the  Author  be  persuaded  to  make  it  public)  it  is  my  most  dehberate 
judgment,  and  inmost  conviction,  that  it  will  form  an  important  epoch  in  En- 
glish Literature,  and  open  out  sources  of  metrical  and  rhythmical  wealth  in 
the  very  heart  of  our  language,  of  which  few,  if  any,  among  us  are  aware. 

S.  T.  C. 


16 

and  with  the  avowed  object  of  referring  men  in  all  things  to 
Principles  or  fundamental  truths,  I  was  well  aware  of  the  ob- 
stacles which  the  plan  itself  Avould  oppose  to  my  success. 
For  in  order  to  the  regular  attainment  of  this  object,  all  the 
driest  and  least  attractive  Essays  must  appear  in  the  first  fif- 
teen or  twenty  Numbers,  and  thus  subject  me  to  the  neces- 
sity of  demanding  effort  or  solicting  patience  in  that  part  of 
the  Work,  where  it  was  most  my  interest  to  secure  the  confi- 
dence of  my  readers  by  winning  their  favor.  Though  I  dared 
warrant  for  the  pleasantness  of  the  journey  on  the  whole ; 
though  I  might  piomise  that  the  road  would,  for  the  far  greater 
part  of  it,  be  found  plain  and  easy,  that  it  would  pass  through 
countries  of  various  prospect,  and  that  at  every  stage  there 
would  be  a  change  of  company ;  it  still  remained  a  heavy 
disadvantage,  that  I  had  to  start  at  the  foot  of  a  high  and 
steep  hill :  and  I  foresaw,  not  without  occasional  feelings  of 
despondency,  that  during  the  slow  and  laborious  ascent  it  would 
require  no  common  management  to  keep  my  passengers  in  good 
humor  with  the  vehicle  and  its  driver.  As  far  as  this  incon- 
venience could  be  palliated  by  sincerity  and  previous  confes- 
sions, I  have  no  reason  to  accuse  myself  of  neglect.  In  the 
prospectus  of  The  Friend,  which  for  this  cause  I  re-printed 
and  annexed  to  the  first  Number,  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  inform 
such  as  might  be  inclined  to  patronize  the  publication,  that  I 
must  submit  to  be  esteemed  dull  by  those  who  sought  chiefly 
for  amusement :  and  this  I  hazarded  as  a  general  confession, 
though  in  my  own  mind  I  felt  a  cheerful  confidence  that  it 
would  apply  almost  exclusively  to  the  earlier  Numbers.  I 
could  not  therefore  be  surprised,  however  much  I  may  have 
been  depressed,  by  the  frequency  with  which  you  hear  The 
Friend  complained  of  for  its  abstruseness  and  obscurity  ;  nor 
did  the  highly  flattering  expressions,  with  which  you  accompa- 
nied your  communication,  prevent  me  from  feeling  its  truth  to 
the  whole  extent. 

An  author's  pen,  like  children's  legs,  improves  by  exercise. 
That  part  of  the  blame  which  rests  on  myself,  I  am  exerting 
my  best  faculties  to  remove.  A  man  long  accustomed  to  silent 
and  solitary  meditation,  in  proportion  as  he  increases  the  pow- 
er of  thinking  in  long  and  connected  trains,  is  apt  to  lose  or 
lessen  the  talent  of  communicating  his  thoughts  with  grace 
and  perspicuity.     Doubtless  too,  I  have  in  some  measure   in- 


17 

jured  my  style,  in  respect  to   its  facility  and  popularity,   from 
having  almost  confined  my  reading,  of  late  years,  to  the  works 
of  the  Ancients  and  those  of  the  elder   Writers  in  the  modern 
languages.     We  insensibly  imitate  what  we  habitually  admire  ; 
and  an  aversion  to  the  epigrammatic,  unconnected  periods  of 
the  fashionable  Anglogallican  taste  has  too  often  made  me  wil- 
ling to  forget,  that  the   stately   march   and  difficult   evolutions, 
which  characterize  the   eloquence  of  Hooker,   Bacon,    Milton, 
and  Jeremy  Taylor,  are  notwithstanding   their  intrinsic  excel- 
lence, still  less  suited  to  a  periodical   Essay.     This  fault  I    am 
now  endeavoring  to  correct ;  though  I  can  never  so  far  sacrifice 
my  judgment  to  the  desire  of  being  immediately  popular,  as  to 
cast  my  sentences  in  the  French  moulds,  or  affect  a  style  which 
an  ancient  critic  would  have   deemed  purposely   invented   for 
persons  troubled   with  the    asthma  to    read,  and    for  those   to 
comprehend  who  labor  under  the   more   pitiable   asthma  of  a 
short-witted  intellect.     It   cannot   but  be   injurious  to  the  hu- 
man mind  never  to  be  called  into  effort ;  the  habit  of  receiving: 
pleasure  without  any  exertion  of  thought,  by  the  mere  excite- 
ment of  curiosity  and  sensibility,  may  be  justly  ranked   among 
the  worst  effects  of  habitual  novel  reading.     It  is  true  that  these 
short  and  unconnected  sentences  are  easily  and  instanly  under- 
stood :   but  it  is   equally  true,   that  wanting  all   the    cement  of 
thoughts  as  well  as   of  style,  all  the    connections,    and  (if  you. 
will  forgive  too  trivial  a  metaphor)  all  the  hooks -and- eyes  of  the- 
memory,  they  are  as  easily   forgotten  :    or  rather,   it  is  scarcely 
possible  that  they  should  be   remembered. — Nor  is  it  less  true, 
that  those  who  confine    their  reading  to  such  books  dwarf  their 
own  faculties,  and  finally  reduce  their   understandings  to  a  de- 
plorable  imbecility :  the   fact  you   mention,   and   which  I   shall 
hereafter  make  use  of,  is  a  fair  instance  and  a  striking  illustra- 
tion.    Like  idle  morning  visitors,  the   brisk  and  breathless  pe- 
riods hurry  in  and  hurry  off  in    quick  and  profitless  succession  ; 
each  indeed  for  the  moments  of  its   stay  prevents   the   pain   of 
vacancy,  while  it  indulges  the  love   of  sloth ;  but  all   together 
they  leave  the  mistress  of  the  house  (the  soul  I  mean)  fliat  and 
exhausted,  incapable  of  attending  to  her  own  concerns,  and  un- 
fitted for  the  conversation  of  more  rational  guests. 

I  know  you  will  not  suspect  me  of  fostering  so  idle  a  hope,  as 
that  of  obtaining  acquittal  by  recrimination  ;  or  think  that  I  am 

attacking  one  fault,  in  order  that  its  opposite  may  escape  notice 
3 


18 

in  the  noise  and  smoke  of  the  battery.  On  the  contrary,  I 
shall  do  my  best,  and  even  make  all  allowable  sacrifices,  to  ren- 
der my  manner  more  attractive  and  my  matter  more  generally 
interesting.  In  the  establishment  of  principles  and  fundamen- 
tal doctrines,  I  must  of  necessity  require  the  attention  of  my 
reader  to  become  my  fellow-laborer.  The  primary  facts  essen- 
tial to  the  intelligibility  of  my  principles  I  can  prove  to  others 
only  as  far  as  I  can  prevail  on  them  to  retire  mto  themselves 
and  make  their  own  minds  the  objects  of  their  steadfast  attention. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  feel  too  deeply  the  importance  of  the 
convictions,  which  first  impelled  me  to  the  present  undertaking, 
to  leave  unattempted  any  honorable  means  of  recommending 
them  to  as  wide  a  circle  as  possible. 

Hitherto,  my  dear  Sir,  I  have  been  employed  in  laying  the 
foundation  of  my  work.  But  the  proper  merit  of  a  foundation 
is  its  massiveness  and  solidity.  The  conveniences  and  orna- 
ments, the  gilding  and  stucco  work,  the  sunshine  and  sunny 
prospects,  will  come  with  the  superstructure.  Yet  I  dare  not 
flatter  myself,  that  any  endeavors  of  mine,  compatible  with 
the  duty  I  owe  to  truth  and  the  hope  of  permanent  utility,  will 
render  The  Friend  agreeable  to  the  majority  of  what  is  call- 
ed the  reading  public.  I  never  expected  it.  How  indeed  could 
I,  when  I  was  to  borrow  so  little  from  the  influence  of  passing 
events,  and  when  I  had  absolutely  excluded  from  my  plan  all 
appeals  to  personal  curiosity  and  personal  interests  ?  Yet  even 
this  is  not  my  greatest  impediment.  No  real  information  can 
be  conveyed,  no  important  errors  rectified,  no  widely  injurious 
prejudices  rooted  up,  without  requiring  some  eff'ort  or  thought 
on  the  part  of  the  reader.  But  the  obstinate  (and  toward  a 
contemporary  Writer,  the  contemptuous)  aversion  to  all  intel- 
lectual effort  is  the  mother  evil  of  all  which  I  had  proposed  to 
war  against,  the  Queen  Bee  in  the  hive  of  our  errors  and  mis- 
fortunes, both  private  and  national.  To  solicit  the  attention  of 
those,  on  whom  these  debilitating  causes  have  acted  to  their 
full  extent,  would  be  no  less  absurd  than  to  recommend  exer- 
cise with  the  dumb  bells,  as  the  only  mode  of  cure,  to  a  patient 
paralytic  in  both  arms.  You,  my  dear  Sir,  well  know,  that 
my  expectations  were  more  modest  as  well  as  more  rational. 
I  hoped,  that  my  readers  in  general  would  be  aware  of  the  im- 
practicability of  suiting  every  Essay  to  every  taste  in  any  pe- 
riod of  the  work ;  and  that  they  would  not  attritbute  wholly  to 


19  "      "' 

the  author,  but  in  part  to  the  necessity  of  his  plan,  the  austeri- 
ty and  absence  of  the  lighter  graces  in  the  first  fifteen  or  twenty 
numbers.  In  my  cheerful  moods  I  sometimes  flattered  myself, 
that  a  few  even  among  those,  who  foresaw  that  my  lucubrations 
would  at  all  times  require  more  attention  than  from  the  nature 
of  their  own  employments  they  could  afford  them,  might  yet 
find  a  pleasure  in  supporting  the  Friend  during  its  infancy,  so 
as  to  give  it  a  chance  of  attracting  the  notice  of  others,  to 
whom  its  style  and  subjects  might  be  better  adapted.  But  my 
main  anchor  was  the  Hope,  that  when  circumstances  gradually 
enabled  me  to  adopt  the  ordinary  means  of  making  the  publica- 
tion generally  known,  there  might  be  found  throughout  the 
Kingdom  a  sufficient  number  of  meditative  minds,  who,  enter- 
taining similar  convictions  with  myself,  and  gratified  by  the 
prospect  of  seeing  them  reduced  to  form  and  system,  would 
take  a  warm  interest  in  the  work  from  the  very  circumstance 
that  it  wanted  those  allurements  of  transitory  interests,  which 
render  particular  patronage  superfluous,  and  for  the  brief  season 
of  their  blow  and  fragrance  attract  the  eye  of  thousands,  who 
would  pass  unregarded 

Flowers 


Of  sober  tint,  and  Herbs  of  medicinal  powers. 

S.  T.  C. 

In  these  three  introductory  Numbers,  The  Friend  has  en- 
deavored to  realize  his  promise  of  giving  an  honest  bill  of  fare, 
both  as  to  the  objects  and  the  style  of  the  Work.  With  refer- 
ence to  both  I  conclude  with  a  prophecy  of  Simon  Grynaeus, 
from  his  premonition  to  the  candid  Reader,  prefixed  to  Fi- 
cinus's  translation  of  Plato,  published  at  Leyden,  1557.  How 
far  it  has  been  gradually  fulfilled  in  this  country  since  the  revo- 
lution in  1688,  I  leave  to  my  candid  and  intelligent  Readers  to 
determine. 

'  Ac  dolet  mihi  quidem  deliciis  literarum  inescatos  subito  jam 
homines  adeoj  esse,  praesertim  qui  Christianos  esse  profitentur, 
ut  legere  nisi  quod  ad  presentem  gustum  facit,  sustineant  nihil : 
unde  et  disciplina  et  philosophia  ipsa  jam  fere  prorsus  etiam  a 
doctis  negliguntur.  Quod  quidem  propositum  studiorum  nisi 
mature  corrigetur,  tam  magnum  rebus  incommodum  dabit,  quam 
dedit  barbaries  olim.  Pertinax  res  barbaries  est  fateor  ;  sed 
minus  potest  tamen,  quam  ilia  persuasa  literarum,  prudentior  si 


20 

RATioNE  caret,  sapientiae  virtutisque  specie  misere  lectoies  cir- 
cuinducens. 

Succedet  igitur,  ut  arbitror,  baud  ita  multo  post,  pro  rus- 
ticana  sseeuli  nostri  ruditate  captatrix  ilia  biandi-loquentia,  ro- 
bur  aninii  virilis  omne,  omnem  virtutem  masculum  profligatura, 
nisi  cavetur.' 

(Translation.) — In  very  truth,  it  grieveth  me  that  men, 
those  especially  who  profess  themselves  to  be  Christians, 
should  be  so  taken  with  the  sweet  Baits  of  Literature  that 
they  can  endure  to  read  nothing  but  Vv^hat  gives  them  imme- 
diate gratification,  no  matter  how  low  or  sensual  it  may  be. 
Consequently,  the  more  austere  and  disciplinary  branches  of 
philosophy  itself,  are  almost  wholly  neglected,  even  by  the 
learned. — A  course  of  study  (if  such  reading,  with  such  a  pur- 
pose in  view,  could  deserve  that  name)  which,  if  not  correct- 
ed in  time,  will  occasion  worse  consequences  than  even  bar- 
barism did  in  the  times  of  our  forefathers.  Barbarism  is,  I 
own,  a  wilful  headstrong  thing ;  but  with  all  its  blind  obstina- 
cy it  has  less  power  of  doing  harm  than  this  self-sufficient, 
self-satisfied  plain  good  common-sense  sort  of  writing,  this  pru- 
dent saleable  popular  style  of  composition,  if  it  be  deserted 
by  Reason  and  scientific  Insight;  pitiably  decoying  the  minds 
of  men  by  an  imposing  shew  of  aimableness,  and  practical 
Wisdom,  so  that  the  delighted  Reader  knowing  nothing  knows 
all  about  almost  every  thing.  There  will  succeed  therefore 
in  my  opinion,  and  that  too  within  no  long  time,  to  the  rude- 
ness and  rusticity  of  our  age,  that  ensnaring  meretricious  j^opw- 
larness  in  Literature,  with  all  the  tricksy  humilities  of  the  am- 
bitious candidates  for  the  favorable  suffrages  of  the  judicious 
Public,  which  if  we  do  not  take  good  care  will  break  up  and 
scatter  before  it  all  robustness  and  manly  vigor  of  intellect,  all 
masculine  fortitude  of  virtue. 


ESSAY    IV. 


Si  modo  qua.  JVatura  et  Ratione  concessa  sint,  assumpserimus,  PrjESumtionis  sus- 
picio  a  nobis  quam  longissime  abesse  debet.  Multa  Antiquitati,  nohismet  ni- 
hil, arrogamus.  JVihilne  vos  ?  JVihil  mehercide,  nisi  quod  omnia  omni  animo 
Veritati  arrogamus  et  SanctimonicB. 

Ulr.  Rinov.  De  Cordroversiis. 

(Translation.) — If  we  assume  only  what  Nature  and  Reason  have  granted, 
with  no  shadow  of  right  can  we  be  suspected  of  Presumption.  To  Antiquity 
we  arrogate  many  things,  to  ourselves  nothing.  Nothing?  Aye  nothing: 
unless  indeed  it  be,  that  with  all  our  strength  we  an-ogate  all  things  to  Truth 
and  jMoral  Purity. 


It  has  been  remarked  by  the  celebrated  Haller,  that  we 
are  deaf  while  we  are  yawning.  The  same  act  of  drowsiness 
that  stretches  open  our  mouths  closes  our  ears.  It  is  much  the 
same  in  acts  of  the  understanding.  A  lazy  half-attention 
amounts  to  a  mental  yawn.  Where  then  a  subject,  that  de- 
mands thought,  has  been  thoughtfully  treated,  and  with  an  ex- 
act and  patient  derivation  from  its  principles,  we  must  be  wil- 
ling to  exert  a  portion  of  the  same  effort,  and  to  think  with 
the  author,  or  the  author  will  have  thought  in  vain  for  us. 
It  makes  little  difference  for  the  time  being,  whether  there  be 
an  hiatus  oscitans  in  the  reader's  attention,  or  an  hiatus  lacry- 
tnahilis  in  the  author's  manuscript.  When  this  occurs  during 
the  persual  of  a  work  of  known  authority  and  established  fame, 
we  honestly  lay  the  fault  on  our  own  deficiency,  or  on  the  un- 
fitness of  our  present  mood  ;  but  when  it  is  a  contemporary 
production,  over  which  we  have  been  nodding,  it  is  far  more 
pleasant  to  pronounce  it  insufferably  dull  and  obscure.  Indeed, 
as  charity  begins  at  home,  it  would  be  unreasonable  to  expect 


S3 

that  a  reader  should  charge  himself  with  lack  of  intellect, 
when  the  elTect  may  be  equally  well  accounted  for  by  declar- 
ing the  author  unintelligible  ;  or  that  he  should  accuse  his  own 
inattention,  when  by  half  a  dozen  phrases  of  abuse,  as  "  hea- 
vy stuffs  metaphorical  jargon^  &c.,  he  can  at  once  excuse  his 
laziness,  and  gratify  his  pride,  scorn,  and  envy.  To  similar 
impulses  we  must  attribute  the  praises  of  a  true  modern  rea- 
der, when  he  meets  with  a  work  in  the  true  modern  taste  : 
videlicet,  either  in  skipping,  unconnected,  short-winded  asth- 
matic sentences,  as  easy  to  be  understood  as  impossible  to  be 
remembered,  in  which  the  merest  common-place  acquires  a 
momentary  poignancy,  a  petty  titillating  sting,  from  affected 
point  and  wilful  antithesis  ;  or  else  in  strutting  and  rounded 
periods,  in  which  the  emptiest  truisms  are  blown  up  into  illus- 
trious bubbles  by  help  of  film  and  inflation.  "Aye!"  (quoth 
the  delighted  reader)  "  this  is  sense,  this  is  genius  !  this  I  un- 
derstand and  admire  !  /  have  thought  the  very  same  a  hundred 
times  myself  f''  In  other  words,  this  man  has  reminded  me  of 
my  own  cleverness,  and  therefore  I  admire  him.  0  !  for  one 
piece  of  egotism  that  presents  itself  under  its  own  honest  bare 
face  of  "  I  myself  I,"  there  are  fifty  that  steal  out  in  the  mask 
of  tuisms  and  ille-isms. 

It  has  ever  been  my  opinion,  that  an  excessive  solicitude 
to  avoid  the  use  of  our  first  personal  pronoun  more  often  has 
its  source  in  conscious  selfishness  than  in  true  self-oblivion. 
A  quiet  observer  of  human  follies  may  often  amuse  or  sadden 
his  thoughts  by  detecting  a  perpetual  feeling  of  purest  egotism 
through  a  long  masquerade  of  Disguises,  the  half  of  which,  had 
old  Proteus  been  master  of  as  many,  would  have  wearied  out 
the  patience  of  Menelaus.  I  say,  i\\e  patience  only:  for  it  would 
ask  more  than  the  simplicity  of  Polypheme,  with  his  one  eye 
extinguished  to  be  deceived  by  so  poor  a  repetition  of  Nobody. 
Yet  I  can  with  strictest  truth  assure  my  Readers  that  with  a 
pleasure  combined  with  a  sense  of  weariness  I  see  the  nigh 
approach  of  that  point  of  my  labors,  in  which  I  can  convey  my 
opinions  and  the  workings  of  my  heart  without  reminding  the 
Reader  obtrusively  of  myself.  But  the  frequency,  with  which 
I  have  spoken  in  my  own  person,  recalls  my  apprehensions  to 
the  second  danger,  which  it  was  my  hope  to  guard  against ; 
the  probable  charge  of  Arrogance,  or  presumption,  both  for 
daring  to  dissent  from  the  opinions  of  great  authorities,  and,  in 


23 

my  following  numbers  perhaps,  from  the  general  opinion  con- 
cerning the  true  value  of  certain  authorities  deemed  great. 
The  word,  Presumption,  I  appropriate  to  the  internal  feeling, 
and  Arrogance  to  the  way  and  manner  of  outwardly  expressing 
ourselves. 

As  no  man  can  rightfully  be  condemned  without  reference 
to  some  definite  law,  by  the  knowledge  of  which  he  might 
have  avoided  the  given  fault,  it  is  necessary  so  to  define  the 
constituent  qualities  and  conditions  of  arrogance,  that  a  reason 
may  be  assignable  why  we  pronounce  one  man  guilty  and  ac- 
quit another.  For  merely  to  call  a  person  arrogant  or  most  arro- 
gant can  convict  no  one  of  the  vice  except  perhaps  the  ac- 
cuser. I  was  once  present,  when  a  young  man  who  had  left 
his  books  and  a  glass  of  water  to  join  a  convivial  party,  each 
of  whom  had  nearly  finished  his  second  bottle,  was  pronounced 
very  drunk  by  the  whole  party — "he  looked  so  strange  and 
pale  !"  Many  a  man,  who  has  contrived  to  hide  his  ruling  pas- 
sion or  predominant  defect  from  himself,  will  betray  the  same 
to  dispassionate  observers,  by  his  proneness  on  all  occasions  to 
suspect  or  accuse  others  of  it.  Now  arrogance  and  Presump- 
tion, like  all  other  moral  qualities,  must  be  shewn  by  some  act 
or  conduct :  and  this  too  must  be  an  act  that  implies,  if  not  an 
immediate  concurrence  of  the  Will,  yet  some  faulty  constitution 
of  the  Moral  Habits.  For  all  criminality  supposes  its  essentials 
to  have  been  within  the  power  of  the  Agent.  Either  therefore 
the  facts  adduced  do  of  themselves  convey  the  whole  proof  of 
the  charge,  and  the  question  rests  on  the  truth  or  accuracy 
with  which  they  have  been  stated  ;  or  they  acquire  their  char- 
acter from  the  circumstances.  I  have  looked  into  a  ponderous 
Review  of  the  Corpuscular  Philosophy  by  a  Sicilian  Jesuit,  in 
which  the  acrimonious  Father  frequently  expresses  his  doubt 
whether  he  should  pronounce  Boyle  or  Newton  more  impious 
than  presumptuous,  or  more  presumptuous  than  impious.  They 
had  both  attacked  the  reigning  opinions  on  most  important  sub- 
jects, opinions  sanctioned  by  the  greatest  names  of  antiquity, 
and  by  the  general  suffrage  of  their  learned  Contemporaries  or 
immediate  Predecessors.  Locke  was  assailed  with  a  full  cry 
for  his  presumption  in  having  deserted  the  philosophical  system 
at  that  time  generally  received  by  the  Universities  of  Europe  ; 
and  of  late  years  Dr.  Priestly  bestowed  the  epithets  of  arrogant 
and  insolent  on  Reid,    Beattie,   &c.,  for   presuming  to   arraign 


24 

certain  opinions  of  Mr.  Locke,  himself  repaid  in  kind  by  many 
of  his  own  countrymen  for  his  theological  novelties.  It  will 
scarcely  be  affirmed,  that  these  accusations  were  all  of  them 
just,  or  that  any  of  them  were  tit  or  courteous.  Must  we  there- 
fore say,  that  in  order  to  avow  doubt  or  disbelief  of  a  popular 
persuasion  without  arrogance,  it  is  required  that  the  dissentient 
should  know  himself  to  possess  the  genius,  and  foreknow  that 
he  should  acquire  the  reputation,  of  Locke,  Newton,  Boyle,  or 
even  of  a  Reid  or  Beattie  ?  But  as  this  knowledge  and  pre- 
science are  impossible  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  words,  and 
could  mean  no  more  than  a  strong  inward  conviction,  it  is 
manifest  that  such  a  rule,  if  it  were  universally  established, 
would  encourage  the  presumptuous,  and  condemn  modest  and 
humble  minds  alone  to  silence.  And  as  this  silence  could  not 
acquit  the  individual's  own  mind  of  presumption,  unless  it 
were  accompanied  by  conscious  acquiescence ;  Modesty  itself 
must  become  an  inert  quality,  which  even  in  private  society 
never  displays  its  charms  more  unequivocally  than  in  its  mode 
of  reconciling  moral  deference  with  intellectual  courage,  and 
general  diffidence  with  sincerity  in  the  avowal  of  the  particular 
conviction. 

We  must  seek  then  elsewhere  for  the  true  marks,  by  which 
Presumption  or  Arrogance  may  be  detected,  and  on  which  the 
charge  may  be  grounded  with  little  hazard  of  mistake  or  in- 
justice. And  as  I  confine  my  present  observations  to  litera- 
ture, I  deem  such  criteria  neither  difficult  to  determine  or  to 
apply.  The  first  mark,  as  it  appears  to  me,  is  a  frequent  bare 
assertion  of  opinions  not  generally  received,  without  condescen- 
ding to  prefix  or  annex  the  facts  and  reasons  on  which  such 
opinions  were  formed  ;  especially  if  this  absence  of  logical  cour- 
tesy is  supplied  by  contemptuous  or  abusive  treatment  of  such 
as  happen  to  doubt  of,  or  oppose,  the  decisive  ipse  dixi.  But 
to  assert,  however  nakedly,  that  a  passage  in  a  lewd  novel,  in 
which  the  Sacred  Writings  are  denounced  as  more  likely  to 
pollute  the  young  and  innocent  mind  than  a  romance  notorious 
for  its  indecency — to  assert,  I  say,  that  such  a  passage  argues 
equal  impudence  and  ignorance  in  its  author,  at  the  time  of  wri- 
ting and  publishing  it — this  is  not  arrogance  ;  although  to  a  vast 
majority  of  the  decent  part  of  our  countrymen  it  would  be  su- 
perfluous as  a  truism,  if  it  were  exclusively  an  author's  business 
to  convey  or  revive  knowledge,  and  not  sometimes  his   duty  to 


25 

awaken  the  indignation  of  his   Reader  by  the  expression  of  his 
own. 

A  second  species  of  this  unamiable  quality,  which  has  been 
often  distinguished  by  the  name  of  Warburtonian  arrogance, 
betrays  itself,  not  as  in  the  former,  by  proud  or  petulant  omis- 
sion of  proof  or  argument,  but  by  the  habit  of  ascribing  weakness 
of  intellect,  or  wantof  taste  and  sensibility,  or  hardness  of  heart, 
or  corruption  of  moral  principle,  to  all  who  deny  the  truth  of 
the  doctrine,  or  the  sufficiency  of  evidence,  or  the  fairness  of 
the  reasoning  adduced  in  its  support.  This  is  indeed  not  es- 
sentially different  from  the  first,  but  assumes  a  separate  charac- 
ter from  its  accompaniments  :  for  though  both  the  doctrine  and 
its  proofs  may  have  been  legitimately  supplied  by  the  under- 
standing, yet  the  bitterness  of  personal  crimination  will  resolve 
itself  into  naked  assertion.  We  are,  therefore,  authorized  by 
experience,  and  justified  on  the  principle  of  self-defence  and 
by  the  law  of  fair  retaliation,  in  attributing  it  to  a  vicious  tem- 
per, arrogant  from  irritability,  or  irritable  from  arrogance.  This 
learned  arrogance  admits  of  many  gradations,  and  is  palliated  or 
aggravated,  accordingly,  as  the  point  in  dispute  has  been  more  or 
less  controverted,  as  the  reasoning  bears  a  greater  or  smaller 
proportion  to  the  virulence  of  the  personal  detraction,  and  as  the 
persons  or  parties,  who  are  the  objects  of  it,  are  more  or  less 
respected,  more  or  less  worthy  of  respect.* 


*  Had  the  auttior  of  the  Divine  Legation  of  Moses  more  sfjilfully  appro- 
priated his  coarse  eloquence  of  abuse,  liis  customary  assurance  of  the  idiotcy, 
both  in  head  and  heart,  of  all  his  opponents;  if  he  had  employed  those  vigor- 
ous arguments  of  his  own  vehement  humor  in  the  defence  of  Truths  ac- 
knowledged and  reverenced  by  learned  men  in  general ;  or  if  he  had  confi- 
ned them  to  the  names  of  Chubb,  Woolston,  and  other  precursors  of  3Ir.  Thom- 
as Payne  ;  we  should  perhaps  still  characterize  his  mode  of  controversy  liy 
its  rude  violence,  but  not  so  often  have  heard  his  name  used,  even  by  those 
who  have  never  read  his  writings,  as  a  proverbial  expression  of  learned  Arro- 
gance. But  when  a  novel  and  doubtful  hyjjothesis  of  his  own  formation  was 
the  citadel  to  be  defended,  and  his  mephitic  hand-granados  were  thrown 
with  the  fury  of  lawless  despotism  at  the  fair  reputation  of  a  Sykes  and  a 
Lardner,  we  not  only  confirm  the  verdict  of  his  independent  contemporaries, 
but  cease  to  wonder,  that  arrogance  should  rendei-  man  an  object  of  contempt 
in  many,  and  of  aversion  in  all  instances,  when  it  was  capable  of  hurrying  a 
Christian  teacher  of  equal  talents  and  learning  into  a  slanderous  vulgarity, 
which  escapes  our  disgust  only  when  we  see  the  writer's  own  reputation  the 
sole  victim.     But  throughout  his  great  work,  and  the  pamphlets  in  which  he 

4 


26 

Lastly,  it  must  be  admitted  as  a  just  imputation  of  presump- 
tion when  an  individual  obtrudes  on  the  public  eye,  with  all 
the  high  pretensions  of  originality,  opinions  and  observations, 
in  regard  to  which  he  must  plead  wilful  ignorance  in  order  to 
be  acquitted  of  dishonest  plagiarism.  On  the  same  seat  must 
the  writer  be  placed,  who  in  a  disquisition  on  any  important 
subject  proves,  by  falsehoods  either  of  omission  or  of  positive 
error,  that  he  has  neglected  to  possess  himself,  not  only  of  the 
information  requisite  for  this  particular  subject,  but  even  of  those 
acquirements,  and  that  general  knowledge,  which  could  alone 
authorize  him  to  commence  a  public  instructor  :  this  is  an  office 
which  cannot  be  procured  gratis.  The  industry,  necessary  for 
the  due  exercise  of  its  functions,  is  its  purchase-money ;  and 
the  absence  or  insufficiency  of  the  same  is  so  far  a  species  of 
dishonesty,  and  implies  a  jyresumption  in  the  literal  as  well  as 
the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word.  He  has  taken  a  thing  before 
he  had  acquired  any  right  or  title  thereto. 

If  in  addition  to  this  unfitness  which  every  man  possesses 
the  means  of  ascertaining,  his  aim  should  be  to  unsettle  a  gen- 
eral belief  closely  connected  with  public  and  private  quiet ; 
and  if  his  language  and  manner  be  avowedly  calculated  for  the 
illiterate  (and  perhaps  licentious)  part  of  his  contrymen  ;  dis- 
gusting as  his  presumption  must  appear,  it  is  yet  lost  or  evan- 
escent in  the  close  neighbourhood  of  his  guilt.  That  Hobbes 
translated  Homer  in  English  verse  and  published  his  translation, 
furnishes  no  positive  evidence  of  his  self-conceit,  though  it 
implies  a  great  lack  of  self-knowldege  and  of  acquaintance  with 
the  nature  of  poetry.  A  strong  wish  often  imposes  itself  on 
(he  mind  for  an  actual  power;  the  mistake  is  favored  by  the 
innocent  pleasure  derived  from  the  exercise  of  versification, 
perhaps  by  the  approbation  of  intimates  ;  and  the  canditate  asks 
from  more  impartial  readers  that  sentence,  which  Nature  has 
not  enabled  him  to  anticipate.  But  when  the  philosopher  of 
Malmsbury  waged  war  with  Wallis  and  the  fundamental  truths 
of  pure   geometry,  every   instance  of  his   gross  ignorance  and 


supported  it,  he  always  seems  to  write  as  if  he  had  deemed  it  adut3-of  deco- 
imn  toimblisl)  his  fancies  on  the  Mosaic  Law,  as  the  Law  itself  was  delivered, 
that  is,  "in  thinidersand  lightnings  ;"  or  as  if  he  had  applied  to  his  own  book 
intscad  of  the  snored  nioinit,  the  inenare — Thtre  shall  not  a  hand  couch  it  but 
he  shall  surely  be  stoned  or  shot  through. 


21 

utter  misconception  of  the  very  elements  of  the  science  he  pro- 
posed to  confute,  furnished  an  unanswerable  fact  in  proof  of  his 
high  presumption  ;  and  the  confident  and  insulting  language  of 
the  attack  leaves  the  judicious  reader  in  as  little  doubt  of  his 
gross  arrogance.  An  illiterate  mechanic,  when  mistaking  some 
disturbance  of  his  nerves  for  a  miraculous  call  proceeds  alone 
to  convert  a  tribe  of  savages,  whose  language  he  can  have  no 
natural  means  of  acquiring,  may  have  been  misled  by  impulses 
very  different  from  those  of  high  self-opinion  ;  but  the  illite- 
rate perpetrator  of  "  the  Age  of  Reason,"  must  have  had  his 
very  conscience  stupified  by  the  habitual  intoxication  of  pre- 
sumptuous arrogance,  and  his  common-sense  over-clouded  by 
the  vapors  from  his  heart. 

As  long  therefore  as  I  obtrude  no  unsupported  assertions  on 
my  Readers  ;  and  as  long  as  I  state  my  opinions  and  the  evidence 
which  induced  or  compelled  me  to  adopt  them,  with  calmness 
and  that  diffidence  in  myself,  which  is  by  no  means  incompatible 
with  a  firm  belief  in  the  justness  of  the  opinions  themselves; 
while  I  attack  no  man's  private  life  from  any  cause,  and  detract 
from  no  man's  honors  in  his  public  character,  from  the  truth  of 
his  doctrines,  or  the  merits  of  his  compositions,  without  detail- 
ing all  my  reasons  and  resting  the  result  solely  on  the  argu- 
ments adduced ;  while  I  moreovei'R  explain  fully  the  motives  of 
duty,  which  influenced  me  in  resolving  to  institute  such  inves- 
tigation ;  while  I  confine  all  asperity  of  censure,  and  all  expres- 
sions of  contempt,  to  gross  violations  of  truth,  honor,  and  de- 
cency, to  the  base  corrupter  and  the  detected  slanderer;  while 
I  write  on  no  subject,  which  I  have  not  studied  with  my  best  at- 
tention, on  no  subject  which  my 'education  and  acquirments 
have  incapacitated  me  from  properly  understanding ;  and  above 
all  while  !  approve  myself,  alike  in  praise  and  in  blame,  in  close 
reasoning  and  in  impassioned  declamation,  a  steady  FRii^NiD  to 
the  two  best  and  surest  friends  of  all  men,  Truth  and  Hoatesty  ; 
I  will  not  fear  an  accusation  of  either  Presumption  or  Arrogance 
from  the  good  and  the  wise  :  I  shall  pity  it  from  the  weak,  and 
despise  it  from  the  wicked. 


ESSAY    V. 


In  eodem pedore  nullum  est  honestorum  turpiumque  consortium:  et  cogitare  optima 
simul  et  deterrima  non  magis  est  wiius  animce  quam  ejusdem  homiiiis  honum 
esse  ac  malum.  Quintilian. 

There  is  no  fellowship  of  honor  and  baseness  in  the  same  breast;  and  to  com- 
bine the  best  and  the  worst  designs  is  no  more  possible  in  one  mind,  than 
it  is  for  the  same  man  to  be  at  the  same  instant  virtuons  and  vicious. 

Cognitio  veritatis  omnia  falsa,  si  mode  prof eraiitur,  etiam  quce  pi-ius  inaudita  eranf, 
et  dijudicare  et  subvertere  idonea  est.  Augustinus. 

A  knowledge  of  the  truth  is  equal  to  the  task  both  of  discerning  and  of  con- 
futing all  false  assertions  and  erroneous  arguments,  though  never  before 
met  with,  if  only  they  may  freely  be  brought  foi-ward. 


I  have  said,  that  my  very  system  compels  me  to  make  every 
fair  appeal  to  the  feelings,  the  imagination  and  even  the  fancy. 
If  these  are  to  be  withheld  from  the  service  of  truth,  virtue,  and 
happiness,  to  what  purpose  were  they  given  ?  in  whose  service 
are  they  retained  ?  I  have  indeed  considered  the  disproportion 
of  human  passions  to  their  ordinary  objects  among  the  strongest 
internal  evidences  of  our  future  destination,  and  the  attempt  to 
restore  them  to  their  rightful  claimants,  the  most  imperious  duty 
and  the  noblest  task  of  genius.  The  verbal  enunciation  of  this 
master-truth  could  scarcely  be  new  to  me  at  any  period  of  my 
life  since  earliest  youth  ;  but  I  well  remember  the  particular 
lime,  when  the  words  first  became  more  than  words  to  me, 
when  they  incorporated  with  a  living  conviction,  and  took  their 
place  among  the  realties  of  my  being.  On  some  wide  com- 
mon or  open  heath,  peopled  with  Ant-hills,  during  some  one 
of  the  grey  cloudy  days  of  the  late  Autumn,  many  of  my  Rea- 
ders may  have  noticed  the  effect  of  a  sudden  and  momentary 
flash  of  sunshine  on  all  the  countless  little  animals  within  his 
view,  aware  too  that  the  self-same  influence   was  darted  co-in- 


39 

stantaneouslj  over  all  their  swarming  ciries  as  far  as  his  eye 
could  reach ;  may  have  observed,  with  what  a  kindly  force  the 
gleam  stirs  and  quickens  them  all !  and  will  have  experienced 
no  unpleasureable  shock  of  feeling  in  seeing  myriads  of  myriads 
of  living  and  sentient  beings  united  at  the  same  moment  in  one 
gay  sensation,  one  joyous  activity  !  But  awful  indeed  is  the 
same  appearance  in  a  multitude  of  rational  beings,  our  fellow- 
men,  in  whom  too  the  effect  is  produced  not  so  much  by  the  ex- 
ternal occasion  as  from  the  active  quality  of  their  own  thoughts. 
I  had  walked  from  Gottingen  in  the  year  1799,  to  witness  the 
arrival  of  the  Queen  of  Prussia,  on  her  visit  to  the  Baron  Von 
Hartzberg's  seat,  five  miles  from  the  University.  The  spa- 
cious outer  court  of  the  palace  was  crowded  with  men  and 
women,  a  sea  of  heads,  with  a  number  of  children  rising  out  of 
it  from  their  father's  shoulders.  After  a  buzz  of  two  hours  ex- 
pectation, the  avant-courier  rode  at  full  speed  into  the  Court. 
At  the  loud  cracks  of  his  long  whip  and  the  trampling  of  his 
horse's  hoofs,  the  universal  shock  and  thrill  of  emotion — I  have 
not  language  to  convey  it — expressed  as  it  was  in  such  manifold 
looks,  gestures,  and  attitudes,  yet  with  one  and  the  same  feeling 
in  the  eyes  of  all !  Recovering  from  the  first  inevitable  conta- 
gion of  sympathy,  I  involuntarily  exclaimed,  though  in  a  language 
to  myself  alone  intelligible,  "  0  man !  ever  nobler  than  thy 
circumstances  !  Spread  but  the  mist  of  obscure  feeling  over 
any  form,  and  even  a  woman  incapable  of  blessing  or  of  injury 
to  thee  shall  be  welcomed  with  an  intensity  of  emotion  ade- 
quate to  the  reception  of  the  Redeemer  of  the  world  !" 

To  a  creature  so  highly,  so  fearfully  gifted,  who,  alienated  as 
he  is  by  a  sorcery  scarcely  less  mysterious  than  the  nature  on 
which  it  is  exercised,  yet  like  the  fabled  son  of  Jove  in  the 
evil  day  of  his  sensual  bewitchment,  lifts  the  spindles  and  dis- 
taffs of  Omphale  with  the  arm  of  a  giant,  Truth  is  self-restora- 
tion :  for  that  which  is  the  correlative  of  Truth,  the  existence 
of  absolute  Life,  is  the  only  object  which  can  attract  towards  it 
the  whole  depth  and  mass  of  his  fluctuating  Being,  and  alone 
therefore  can  unite  Calmness  with  Elevation.  But  it  must  be 
Truth  without  alloy  and  unsophisticated.  It  is  by  the  agency 
of  indistinct  conceptions,  as  the  counterfeits  of  the  Ideal  and 
Transcendent,  that  evil  and  vanity  exercise  their  tyranny  on 
the  feelings  of  man.  The  Powers  of  Darkness  are  politic  if 
not  wise ;  but  surely  nothing  can  be  more  irrational  in  the  pre- 


30 

tended  children  of  Light,  than  to  enlist  themselves  under  the 
banners  of  Truth,  and  yet  rest  their  hopes  on  an  alliance  with 
Delusion. 

Among  the  numerous  artifices,  by  which  austere  truths  are 
to  be  softened  down  into  palateable  falsehoods,  and  Virtue  and 
Vice,  like  the  atoms  of  Epicurus,  to  receive  that  insensible 
clinamen  which  is  to  make  them  meet  each  other  half  way,  I 
have  an  especinl  dislike  to  the  expression,  Pious  Frauds. 
Piety  indeed  shrinks  from  the  very  phrase,  as  an  attempt  to 
mix  poison  with  the  cup  of  Blessing :  while  the  expediency  of 
the  measures  which  this  phrase  was  framed  to  recommend  or 
palliate,  appears  more  and  more  suspicious,  as  the  range  of  our 
experience  widens,  and  our  acquaintance  with  the  records  of 
History  becomes  more  extensive  and  accurate.  One  of  the 
most  seductive  arguments  of  Infidelity  grounds  itself  on  the 
numerous  passages  in  the  works  of  the  Christian  Fathers,  as- 
serting the  lawfulness  of  Deceit  for  a  good  purpose.  That  the 
Fathers  held,  almost  without  exception,  "That  wholly  without 
breach  of  duty  it  is  allowed  to  the  Teachers  and  heads  of  the 
Christian  Church  to  employ  artifices,  to  intermix  falsehoods 
with  truths,  and  especially  to  deceive  the  enemies  of  the  faith, 
provided  only  they  hereby  serve  the  interests  of  Truth  and  the 
advantage  of  mankind,"*  is  the  unwilling  confession  of  Rieof: 
(Program,  de  Oeconomia  Patrum.)  St.  Jerom,  as  is  shewn  by 
the  citations  of  this  learned  Theologian,  boldly  attributes  this 
management  (fahitatem  dispensativam)  even  to  the  Apostles 
themselves.  But  why  speak  I  of  the  advantage  given  to  the 
opponents  of  Christianity?  Alas!  to  this  doctrine  chieily,  and 
to  the  practices  derived  from   it,  we   must   attribute  the  utter 


*  Integrum  omnino  Dodoribus  et  ccetus  Cliristiani  Antistitihus  esse,  ul  dolos 
verseni,  falsa  veris  intermiscant  et  imprimis  religionis  Jwstes  fullant,  dummodo 
reritrdis  commodis  et  utiiitati  insci'vant. — I  trust,  I  iicctl  not  add,  tliat  tlju  iiii- 
|)iit!ili()ii  of  .such  priuciplos  of  a<;tioii  to  the  first  inspired  Propngators  of 
Christianity,  is  foinidcd  on  tlie  gross  misconstruction  of  those  j)assages  in  the 
writings  of  St.  Paul,  in  wliich  tlic  necessity  of  employing  different  argu- 
ments to  men  of  different  capacities  and  prejudices,  is  supposed  and  acceded 
to.  In  otiier  words,  St.  Paul  strove  to  sj)eak  intelligibly,  willingly  sacrificed 
indiflercnt  things  to  matters  of  importance,  and  acted  courteously  as  a  man, 
in  order  to  win  attention  as  an  Apostle.  A  traveller  prefers  for  daily  use  the 
coin  of  the  nation  through  wiiich  ho  is  passing,  to  bidlion  or  the  mintage  of 
his  own  countiy:  and  is  this  to  justifv  n  succeeding  traveller  in  the  use  of 
counterfeit  coin? 


ai 

corruption  of  the  Religion  itself  for  so  many  ages,  and  even 
now  over  so  large  a  portion  of  the  civilized  world.  By  a  sys- 
tem of  accommodating  Truth  to  Falsehood,  the  Pastors  of  the 
Church  gradually  changed  the  life  and  light  of  the  Gospel  into 
the  very  superstitions  which  they  were  commissioned  to  disperse, 
and  thus  paganized  Christianity  in  order  to  christen  Paganism. 
At  this  very  hour  Europe  groans  and  bleeds  in  consequence. 

So  much  in  proof  and  exemplification  of  the  probable  expedi- 
ency of  pious  deception,  as  suggested  by  its  known  and  record- 
ed consequences.  An  honest  man,  however,  possesses  a  clear- 
er light  than  that  of  History.  He  knows,  that  by  sacrificing 
the  law  of  his  reason  to  the  maxim  of  pretended  prudence,  he 
purchases  the  sword  with  the  loss  of  the  arm  that  is  to  wield  it. 
The  duties  which  we  owe  to  our  own  moral  being,  are  the 
ground  and  condition  of  all  other  duties;  and  to  set  our  nature 
at  strife  with  itself  for  a  good  purpose,  implies  the  same  sort  of 
prudence,  as  a  priest  of  Diana  would  have  manifested,  who 
should  have  proposed  to  dig  up  the  celebrated  charcoal  foun- 
dations of  the  mighty  Temple  ofEphesus,  in  order  to  furnish 
fuel  for  the  burnt-offerings  on  its  altars.  Truth,  Virtue  and 
Happiness,  may  be  distinguished  from  each  other,  but  cannot 
be  divided.  They  subsist  by  a  mutual  co-inherance,  which 
gives  a  shadow  of  divinity  even  to  our  human  nature.  "  Will 
ye  speak  deceitfully  for  God  ?"  is  a  searching  question,  which 
most  affectingly  represents  the  grief  and  impatience  of  an  un- 
corrupted  mind  at  perceiving  a  good  cause  defended  by  ill 
means  :  and  assuredly  if  any  temptation  can  provoke  a  well-regu- 
lated teipper  to  intolerance,  it  is  the  sliameless  assertion,  that 
Truth  and  Falsehood  are  inditferent  in  their  own  natures  ;  that 
the  former  is  as  oi'ten  injurious  (and  therefore  criminal)  and  the 
latter  on  many  occasions  as  beneficial  (and  consequently  meri- 
torious) as  the  former. 

I  feel  it  incumbent  on  me,  therefore,  to  place  immediately  be- 
fore my  Readers  in  the  fullest  and  clearest  light,  the  whole 
question  of  moral  obligation  respecting  the  communication  of 
Truth,  its  extent  and  conditions.  I  would  fain  obviate  all  ap- 
prehensions either  of  my  incaution  on  the  one  hand,  or  of  any 
insincere  reserve  on  the  other,  by  proving  that  the  more  strictly 
we  adhere  to  the  Letter  of  the  moral  law  in  this  respect,  the 
more  completely  shall  we  reconcile  the  law  with  prudence  ; 
thus  securing  a  purity  in  the   principle   without  mischief  from 


\ 

^       *- 


the  practice.  I  would  not,  I  could  not  dare,  address  my  coun- 
trymen as  a  Friend,  if  I  might  not  justify  the  assumption  of  that 
sacred  title  by  more  than  mere  veracity,  by  open-heartedness. 
Pleasure,  most  often  delusive,  may  be  born  of  delusion.  Pleas- 
ure, herself  a  sorceress,  may  pitch  her  tents  on  enchanted  ground. 
But  Happiness  (or,  to  use  a  far  more  accurate  as  well  as  more 
comprehensive  term,  solid  Well-being)  can  be  built  on  Virtue 
alone,  and  must  of  necessity  have  Truth  for  its  foundation. 
Add  to  the  known  fact  that  the  meanest  of  men  feels  himself 
insulted  by  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  deceive  him  ;  and  hates 
and  despises  the  man  who  had  attempted  it.  What  place  then 
is  left  in  the  heart  for  Virtue  to  build  on,  if  in  any  case  we  may 
dare  practice  on  others  what  we  should  feel  as  a  cruel  and  con- 
temptuous wrong  in  our  own  persons  ?  Every  parent  possesses 
the  opportunity  of  observing,  how  deeply  children  resent  the 
injury  of  a  delusion  ;  and  if  men  laugh  at  the  falsehoods  that 
were  imposed  on  themselves  during  their  childhood,  it  is  be- 
cause they  are  not  good  and  wise  enough  to  contemplate  the 
past  in  the  present,  and  so  to  produce  by  a  virtuous  and  thought- 
ful sensibility  that  continuity  in  their  self-consciousness,  which 
Nature  has  made  the  law  of  their  animal  life.  Ingratitude,  sen- 
suality, and  hardness  of  heart,  all  flow  from  this  source.  Men 
are  ungrateful  to  others  only  when  they  have  ceased  to  look 
back  on  their  former  selves  with  joy  and  tenderness.  They 
exist  in  fragments.  Annihilated  as  to  the  Past,  they  are  dead 
to  the  Future,  or  seek  for  the  proofs  of  it  everywhere,  only  not 
(where  alone  they  can  be  found)  in  themselves.  A  contem- 
poraiy  Poet  has  expressed  and  illustrated  this  sentiment  with 
equal  fineness  of  thought  and  tenderness  of  feeling  : 

My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  Ijeliold 

A  rain-how  in  the  sky  ? 
So  was  it,  when  my  life  began  ; 
So  is  it  now  I  am  a  man  ; 
So  let  it  he,  when  I  grow  old, 

Or  let  me  die. 
The  Child  is  Father  of  the  Man, 
And  I  tcoxdd  tcish  my  days  to  be 
Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety* 

Wordsworth. 


*  I  am  informed,  that  these  verj' lines  have  been  cited,  as  a  specimen  of 
despicable  puerility.     So  much  the  worse  for  the  citer.     Not  willingly  in  his 


Alas  !  the  pernicious  influence  of  this  lax  morality"' t]"^!"  ''^ 
from  the  nursery  and  the  school  to  the  cabinet  and  senate.  It 
is  a  common  weakness  with  men  in  power,  who  have  used  dis- 
simulation successfully,  to  form  a  passion  for  the  use  of  it,  dupes 
to  the  love  of  duping  !  A  pride  is  flattered  by  these  lies.  He 
who  fancies  that  he  must  be  perpetually  stooping  down  to  the 
prejudices  of  his  fellow-creatures,  is  perpetually  reminding 
and  re-assuring  himself  of  his  own  vast  superiority  to  them. 
But  no  real  greatness  can  long  co-exist  with  deceit.  The 
whole  faculties  of  man  must  be  exerted  in  order  to  noble  ener- 
gies ;  and  he  who  is  not  earnestly  sincere,  lives  in  but  half  his 
being,  self-mutilated,  self-paralyzed. 

The  latter  part  of  the  proposition,  which  has  drawn  me  into 
this  discussion,  that  1  mean  in  which  the  morality  of  intention- 
al falsehood  is  asserted,  may  safely  be  trusted  to  the  Reader's 
own  moral  sense.  Is  it  a  groundless  apprehension,  that  the 
patrons  and  admirers  of  such  publications  may  receive  the  pun- 
ishment of  their  indiscretion  in  the  conduct  of  their  sons  and 
daughters  ?  The  suspicion  of  methodism  must  be  expected  by 
every  man  of  rank  and  fortune,  who  carries  his  examination 
respecting  the  books  which  are  to  lie  on  his  breakfast-table, 
farther  than  to  their  freedom  from  gross  verbal  indecencies,  and 
broad  avowals  of  atheism  in  the  title-page.  For  the  existence 
of  an  intelligent  first  cause  may  be  ridiculed  in  the  notes  of 
one  poem,  or  placed  doubtfully  as  one  of  two  or  three  possible 
hypotheses,  in  the  very  opening  of  another  poem,  and  both  be 
considered  as  works  of  safe  promiscuous  reading  "virginibus 
puerisque  :"  and  this  too  by  many  a  father  of  a  family,  who 
would  hold  himself  highly   culpable  in  permitting  his  child  to 


presence  would  I  beliold  the  sun  setting  behind  our  mountains,  or  listen  to  a 
tale  of  distress  or  virtue;  I  should  be  ashamed  of  the  quiet  tear  on  my  own 
cheek.  But  let  the  dead  bury  the  dead !  The  Poet  sang  for  the  Living.  Of 
what  value  indeed,  to  a  sane  mind,  aie  the  likings  or  disjikings  of  one  man, 
grounded  on  the  mere  assertions  of  another  ?  Opinions  formed  from  opin- 
ions— what  are  they,  but  clouds  sailing  under  clouds,  which  im})ress  shadows 
U])on  shadows? 

Fungum  pclle  procul,  jubeo !  nam  quid  mihi  fungo? 
Conveninnt  stomacho  non  minus  ista  suo. 
I  was  a'ways  i)leased  with  the  motto  placed  under  the  figure  of  the  Rose- 
mary in  old  Herbals: 

Sns,  apage!  Hand  libi  spiro. 
5 


''/ 


the  pracjti/its  of  familiar  acquaintance  with  a  person  of  loose  ha- 
bits, and  think  it  even  criminal  to  receive  into  his  house  a 
private  tutor  without  a  previous  inquiry  concerning  his  opin- 
ions and  principles,  as  well  as  his  manners  and  outward  conduct. 
How  little  I  am  an  enemy  to  free  inquiry  of  the  boldest  kind, 
and  where  the  authors  have  differed  the  most  widely  from  my 
own  convictions  and  the  general  faith  of  mankind,  provided 
only,  the  enquiry  be  conducted  with  that  seriousness,  which 
naturally  accompanies  the  love  of  truth,  and  that  it  is  evidently 
intended  for  the  perusal  of  those  only,  who  may  be  presumed 
to  be  capable  of  weighing  the  arguments,  I  shall  have  abund- 
ant occasion  of  proving,  in  the  course  of  this  work.  Quin 
ipsa  philosophia  talibus  e  disputationibus  non  nisi  heneficium 
recipit.  Nam  si  vera  proponit  homo  ingeniosus  veritatisque 
amanSy  nova  ad  earn  accessiofiet :  sin  falsa,  refutatione  eorum 
priores  tanto  magis  stahilientur*  Galilei  Syst.  Cosm.  p.  42. 
The  assertion,  that  truth  is  often  no  less  dangerous  than 
falsehood,  sounds  less  offensively  at  the  first  hearing,  only  be- 
cause it  hides  its  deformity  in  an  equivocation,  or  double  mean- 
ing of  the  word  truth.  What  may  be  rightly  affirmed  of  truth, 
used  as  synonymous  with  verbal  accuracy,  is  transferred  to  it 
in  its  higher  sense  of  veracity.  By  verbal  truth  we  mean  no 
more  than  the  correspondence  of  a  given  fact  to  given  words. 
In  moral  truth,  we  involve  likewise  the  intention  of  the  speak- 
er, that  his  words  should  correspond  to  his  thoughts  in  the 
sense  in  which  he  expects  them  to  be  understood  by  others  : 
and  in  this  latter  import  we  are  always  supposed  to  use  the 
word,  whenever  we  speak  of  truth  absolutely,  or  as  a  possible 
subject  of  a  moral  merit  or  demerit.  It  is  verbally  true,  that  in 
the  sacred  Scriptures  it  is  written  :  "  As  is  the  good,  so  is  the 
sinner,  and  he  that  sweareth  as  he  that  feareth  an  oath.  A 
man  hath  no  better  thing  under  the  sun,  than  to  eat,  and  to 
drink,  and  to  be  merry.  For  there  is  one  event  unto  all  :  the 
living  know  they  shall  die,  but  the  dead  know  not  any  thing, 
neither  have  they  any  more    a   reward."     But  he    who  should 


*  (Translalion.) — Moreover,  Philosophj' itself  cannot  but  derive  benefit  from 
such  discussions.  For  ifa  mfin  of  genins  and  a  lover  of  Truth  brings  just 
positions  before  the  Public,  there  is  afresh  accession  to  the  stock  ofPhilo- 
sof)hic  Insight ;  bnt  if  erroneous  positions,  the  former  Truths  will  by  their 
confutation  be  estnblisiied  so  much  the  more  firinlv. 


35 

repeat  these  words,  with  this  assurance,  to  an  ignorant  man  in 
the  hour  of  his  temptation,  lingering  at  the  door  of  the  ale- 
house, or  hesitating  as  to  the  testimony  required  of  him  in  the 
court  of  justice,  would,  spite  of  this  verbal  truth,  be  a  liar, 
and  the  murderer  of  his  brother's  conscience.  Veracity,  there- 
fore, not  mere  accuracy ;  to  convey  truth,  not  merelj^  to  say 
it ;  is  the  point  of  duty  in  dispute  :  and  the  only  difficulty  in 
the  mind  of  an  honest  man  arises  from  the  doubt,  whether 
more  than  veracity  (i.  e.  the  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth) 
is  not  demanded  of  him  by  the  law  of  conscience  ;  whether  it 
does  not  exact  simplicity ;  that  is,  the  truth  only,  and  the 
whole  truth.  If  we  can  solve  this  difficulty,  if  we  can  deter- 
mine the  conditions  under  which  the  law  of  universal  reason 
commands  the  communication  of  the  truth  independently  of  con- 
sequences altogether,  we  shall  then  be  enabled  to  judge  wheth- 
er there  is  any  such  probability  of  evil  consequences  from  such 
communication,  as  can  justify  the  assertion  of  its  occasional 
criminality,  as  can  perplex  us  in  the  conception,  or  disturb  us 
in  the  performance,  of  our  duty. 

The  conscience,  or  effective  reason,  commands  the  design  of 
conveying  an  adequate  notion  of  the  thing  spoken  of,  when  this 
is  practicable  :  but  at  all  events  a  I'ight  notion,  or  none  at  all, 
A  school-master  is  under  the  necessity  of  teaching  a  certain 
rule  in  simple  arithmetic  empirically,  (do  so  and  so,  and  the 
sum  will  always  prove  true)  the  necessary  truth  of  the  rule 
(i.  e.  that  the  rule  having  been  adhered  to,  the  sum  must  al- 
ways prove  true)  requiring  a  knowledge  of  the  higher  mathe- 
matics for  its  demonstration.  He,  however,  conveys  a  right 
notion,  though  he  cannot  convey  the  adequate  one. 


iU71 


ES8AY    VI. 


IJolvjiia&iij  y.a'giu  ftei'  o)cpfli£i,  y.u'gru  Se  (IXuTt.iBuo'v  e/ovTu  'wdptXssi, 
fiBv  10  V  dt^io'  f  "afdgu,  ^Xu'ntet  ds  ro^f  Qijiditug  (f)ixii'ev~VTa  nuv  snog 
xul  af  TTUfd  Sij'jLtcp.  Xgtf  de  xuigov'  juSTQa  iidevui-  aocpiijg  yuQ  ov'^iog, 
"oQog,  "oi  de  i'^oi  xuiqov~  qifaiv  fiovaixifv  nenvv^iEi'Mg  'uticriuaip,  &v 
TiaQude/ovTat,  iv  uQyirj  yvo)' i-irjv,  uheiv  d'  (melius  aiTiyv)  t/ovai  jnoiQueg. 
Heraclitus  apud  StobcEum,  (Serm.  xxxiv. 

Ed.  Lgd.  p.  216.; 

(Translation.) — General  Knowledge  and  ready  Talent  maybe  of  very  great 
l)enef]t,  but  tliey  may  likewise  be  of  very  great  disservice  to  the  possessor. 
They  are  highly  advantageous  to  the  man  of  sound  judgment,  and  dexterous 
in  applying  them  ;  but  they  injure  your  fluent  holder-forth  on  all  subjects  in 
all  companies.  It  is  necessary  to  know  the  measures  of  the  time  and  occa- 
sion :  for  this  is  the  very  boundary  of  vvisdom — (that  by  which  it  is  defined, 
and  distinguished  from  mere  ability.)  But  he,  who  witliout  regard  to  the  tm- 
fitness  of  the  time  and  the  audience  "will  soar  in  the  high  reason  of  his  fan- 
cies with  his  garland  and  singing  rjbes  about  him,"  will  not  acquire  the  credit 
of  seriousness  amidst  frivolity,  but  will  be  condenmed  for  his  silhness,  as  the 
greatest  idler  of  the  company  because  the  most  unseasonable. 


The  Moral  Law,  it  has  been  shewn,  permits  an  inadequate 
communication  of  unsophisticated  Jruth,  on  the  condition  that 
it  alone  is  practicable,  and  binds  us  to  silence  when  neither  is 
in  our  power.  We  must  first  enquire  then,  What  is  necessary 
to  constitute,  and  what  may  allowably  accompany,  a  right  though 
inadequate  notion  ?  And  secondly,  what  are  the  circumstances, 
from  which  we  may  deduce  the  impracticability  of  conveying 
even  a  right  notion  ;  the  presence  or  absence  of  which  circum- 
stances it  therefore  becomes  our  duty  to  ascertain  ?  In  answer 
to  the  first  question,  the  conscience  demands  :  i.  That  it  should 
be  the  wish  and  design  of  the  mind  to  convey  the  truth  only ; 


S7 

that  if  in  addition  to  the  negative  loss  implied  in  its  inadequate- 
ness,  the  notion  communicated  should  lead  to  any  positive  error, 
the  cause  should  lie  in  the  fault  or  defect  of  the  Recipient,  not 
of  the  Communicator,  whose  paramount  duty,  whose  inaliena- 
ble right  it  is  to  preserve  his  own  Integrity,*  the  integral  char- 
acter of  his  own  moral  Being.  Self-respect ;  the  reverence 
which  he  owes  to  the  presence  of  Humanity  in  the  person  of 
his  neighbor ;  the  reverential  upholding  of  the  faith  of  man  in 
man  ;  gratitude  for  the  particular  act  of  confidence  ;  and  reli- 
gious awe  for  the  divine  purposes  in  the  gift  of  language  ;  are 
duties  too  sacred  and  important  to  be  sacrificed  to  the  guesses 
of  an  individual,  concerning  the  advantages  to  be  gained  by 
the  breach  of  them.  2.  It  is  further  required,  that  the  suppos- 
ed error  shall  not  be  such  as  will  pervert  or  materially  vitiate 
the  imperfect  truth,  in  communicating  which  we  had  unwilling- 
ly, though  not  perhaps  unwittingly,  occasioned  it.  A  Barbari- 
an so  instructed  in  the  power  and  intelligence  of  the  Infinite 
Being  as  to  be  left  AvhoUy  ignorant  of  his  moral  attributes, 
would  have  acquired  none  but  erroneous  notions  even  of  the 
former.  At  the  very  best,  he  would  gain  only  a  theory  to  sa- 
tisfy his  curiosity  with  ;  but  more  probably,  would  deduce  the 
belief  of  a  Moloch  or  a  Baal.     (For  the  idea  of  an  irresistible 


*The  best  and  most  forcible  sense  of  a  word  is  often  that,  which  is  con- 
tained in  its  Etymology.  The  Author  of  the  Poems  (  The  Synagogue)  fre- 
quently affixed  to  Herbert's  "Temple,"  gives  the  original  purport  of  the 
word  Integrity,  in  the  following  lines  (fourdi  stanza  of  the  eighth  Poem.)  ' 

Next  to  Sincerity,  remember  still, 

Thou  must  resolve  upon  Integrity. 

God  will  have  all  thou  hast,  thy  mind,  thy  will, 

Thy  thoughts,  thy  words,  thy  works. 

And  again,  after  some  verses  on  Constancy  and  Humility,  the  Poem  con- 
cludes with — 

He  that  desires  to  see 
The  face  of  God,  in  his  religion  must 
Sincere,  entire,  constant  luid  huujl)le  he. 

Having  mentioned  tlie  name  of  Herbed,  that  model  of  a  man,  a  Gentle- 
man, and  a  Clergyman,  let  me  add,  that  the  quaintness  of  some  of  his 
ihoMglits  not  of  his  dictioii,  than  which  nothing  can  be  more  pure,  manly, 
and  unaftected,  has  blinded  modern  readers  to  the  great  general  merit  of  his 
Poems,  which  are  for  tha  most  part  exquisite  in  their  kind. 


invisible  Being  naturally  produces  terror  in  the  mind  of  unin- 
structed  and  unprotected  man,  and  with  terror  there  will  be 
associated  whatever  had  been  accustomed  to  excite  it,  as  anger, 
vengeance,  &c.  ;  as  is  proved  by  the  Mythology  of  all  barba- 
rous nations.)  This  must  be  the  case  with  all  organized  truths; 
the  component  parts  derive  their  significance  from  the  idea  of 
the  whole.  Bolingbroke  removed  Love,  Justice,  and  Choice, 
from  Power  and  Intelligence,  and  yet  pretended  to  have  left 
unimpaired  the  conviction  of  a  Deity.  He  might  as  consistent- 
ly have  paralyzed  the  optic  nerve,  and  then  excused  himself  by 
affirming,  that  he  had,  however,  not  touched  the  eye. 

The  third  condition  of  a  right  though  inadequate  notion  is, 
that  the  error  occasioned  be  greatly  outweighed   by  the  impor- 
tance of  the  truth  communicated.     The  rustic  would  have  little 
reason  to  thank  the  philosopher,  who  should  give  him  true  con- 
ceptions of  the  folly  of  believing  in  ghosts,  omens,  dreams,  &c. 
at  the  price  of  abandoning  his  faith  in   Providence   and  in  the 
continued  existence  of  his  fellow-creatures  after  their  death. 
The  teeth  of  the  old  serpent  planted  by  the  Cadmuses  of  French 
Literature,  under   Lewis   XV.   produced   a  plenteous  crop  of 
Philosophers  and  Truth-trumpeters  of  this  kind,   in  the  reign 
of  his  Successor.  They  taught  many  truths,  historical,  political, 
physiological,  and   ecclesiastical,  and   diffused    their  notions  so 
widely,  that  the  very  ladies  and  hair-dressers  of  Paris  became 
fluent  Encyclopedists  :  and  the  sole  price  which  their  scholars 
paid  for  these   treasures   of  new  information,   was  to  believe 
Christianity  an  imposture,  the  Scriptures  a  forgery,  the  worship 
(if  not  the  belief)  of  God   superstition,  hell  a  fable,  heaven  a 
dream,  our  life  without  Providence,  and  our  death  without  hope. 
They  became  as  gods  as  soon  as  the   fruit  of  this    Upas  tree  of 
knowledge  and  liberty  had  opened  their  eyes  to  perceive  that 
they  were  no  more  than  beasts — somewhat   more  cunning  per- 
haps, and  abundantly  more  mischievous.  What  can  be  conceiv- 
ed more  natural  than  the  result, — that  self-acknowledged  beasts 
should   first   act,  and   next  suffer  themselves  to  be  treated  as 
beasts.     We  judge  by  comparison.     To  exclude  the  great  is  to 
magnify  the  little.    The  disbelief  of  essential  wisdom  and  good- 
ness, necessarily  prepares  the  imagination  for  the  supremacy  of 
cunning  with  malignity.     Folly  and  vice  have  their  appropriate 
religions,  as  well  as  virtue  and  true  knowledge;  and  in  some 


39 

way  or  other  fools  will  dance  round  the  golden  calf,  and  wicked 
men  beat  their  timbrels  and  kettle-drums 

To  Moloch,  horrid  king,  besmeared  with  blood 
Of  human  sacrifice  and  parent's  tears. 

My  feelings  have  led  me  on,  and  in  my  illustration  I  had 
almost  lost  from  my  view  the  subject  to  be  illustrated.  One 
condition  yet  remaims :  that  the  error  foreseen  shall  not  be  of 
a  kind  to  prevent  or  impede  the  after  acquirement  of  that 
knowledge  which  will  remove  it.  Observe,  how  graciously 
Nature  instructs  her  human  children.  She  cannot  give  us  the 
knowledge  derived  from  sight  without  occasioning  us  at  first  to 
mistake  images  of  reflection  for  substances.  But  the  very  con- 
sequences of  the  delusion  lead  inevitably  to  its  detection  ;  and 
out  of  the  ashes  of  the  error  rises  a  new  flower  of  knowledge. 
We  not  only  see,  but  are  enabled  to  discover  by  what  means 
we  see.  So  too  we  are  under  the  necessity,  in  given  cir- 
cumstances, of  mistaking  a  square  for  a  round  object:  but 
ere  the  mistake  can  have  any  practical  consequences,  it  is  not 
only  removed,  but  in  its  removal  gives  us  the  symbol  of  a  new 
fact,  that  of  distance.  In  a  similar  train  of  thought,  though  more 
fancifully,  I  might  have  elucidated  the  preceding  condition,  and 
have  referred  our  hurrying  enlighteners  and  revolutionary  am- 
putators  to  the  gentleness  of  Nature,  in  the  oak  and  the  beech, 
the  dry  foliage  of  which  she  pushes  off  only  by  the  propulsion 
of  the  new  buds,  that  supply  its  place.  My  friends!  a  cloth- 
ing even  of  withered  leaves  is  better  than  bareness. 

Having  thus  determined  the  nature  and  conditions  of  a  right 
notion,  it  remains  to  determine  the  circumstances  which  tend 
to  render  the  communication  of  it  impracticable,  and  oblige 
us  of  course,  to  abstain  from  the  attempt — oblige  us  not  to 
convey  falsehood  under  the  pretext  of  saying  truth.  These 
circumstances,  it  is  plain,  must  consist  either  in  natural  or  mo- 
ral impediments.  The  former,  including  the  obA'ious  gradations 
of  constitutional  insensibility  and  derangement,  preclude  all 
temptation  to  misconduct,  as  well  as  all  probability  of  ill-con- 
sequences from  accidental  oversight,  on  the  part  of  the  commu- 
nicator. Far  otherwise  is  it  with  the  impediments  from  moral 
causes.  These  demand  all  the  attention  and  forecast  of  the 
genuine  lovers  of  truth  in  the  matter,  the  manner,  and  the  time 
of  their  communications,  public  and  private ;  and  these  are  the 


40 

ordinary  materials  of  the  vain  and  the  factious,  determine  them 
in  the  choice  of  their  audiences  and  of  their  arguments,  and  to 
each  argument  give  powers  not  its  own.  They  are  distinguish- 
able into  two  sources,  the  streams  from  which,  however,  must 
often  become  confluent,  viz.  hindrances  from  ignorance  (I 
here  use  the  word  in  relation  to  the  habits  of  reasoning  as  well 
as  to  the  previous  knowledge  requisite  for  the  due  comprehen- 
sion of  the  subject)  and  hindrances  from  predominant  ^jassions.* 
From  both  these  the  law  of  conscience  commands  us  to  ab- 
stain, because  such  being  the  ignorance  and  such  the  passions 
of  the  supposed  auditors,  we  ought  to  deduce  the  impractica- 
bility of  conveying  not  onlj^  adequate  but  even  right  notions  of 
our  own  convictions :  much  less  does  it  permit  us  to  avail  our- 
selves of  the  causes  of  this  impracticability  in  order  to  procure 
nominal  proselytes,  each  of  whom  will  have  a  different,  and  all 
a  false,  conception  of  those  notions  that  were  to  be  conveyed 
for  their  truth's  sake  alone.  Whatever  is  (or  but  for  some  de- 
fect in  our  moral  character  would  have  been )  foreseen  as  pre- 
venting the  conveyance  of  our  thoughts,  makes  the  attempt  an 
act  of  self-contradiction:  and  whether  the  faulty  cause  exist  in 
our  choice  of  unfit  words  or  our  choice  of  unfit  auditors,  the 
result  is  the  same  and  so  is  the  guilt.  We  have  voluntarily 
communicated  falsehood. 

Thus  (without  reference  to  consequences,  if  only  one  short 
digression  be  excepted)  from  the  sole  principle  of  self-consist- 
ence or  moral  integrity,  we  have  evolved  the  clue  of  right 
reason,  which  we  are  bound  to  follow  in  the  communication  of 
truth.  Now  then  we  appeal  to  the  judgment  and  experience 
of  the  reader,  whether  he  who  most  faithfully  adheres  to  the 
letter  of  the  law  of  conscience  will  not  likewise  act  in  strictest 
correspondence  to  the  maxims  of  prudence  and  sound  policy. 
I  am  at  least  unable  to  recollect  a  single  instance,  either  in  his- 
tory or  in  my  personal  experience,  of  a  preponderance  of  in- 
jurious consequences  from  the  publication  of  any  truth,  under 
the  observance  of  the  moral  conditions  above  stated  :  much  less 
can  I  even  imagine  any  case,  in  which  truth,  as  truth,  can  be 
pernicious.  But  if  the  assertor  of  the  indifferency  of  truth  and 
falsehood  in  their  own  natures,  attempt  to  justify  his   position 

*  See  the  Author's  Second  Lay  Sermon,  from  p.  10  to  p,  25. 


41 

by  confining  the  word  truth,  in  the  first  instance,  to  the  cor- 
respondence of  given  words  to  given  facts,  without  reference 
to  the  total  impression  left  by  such  words  ;  what  is  this  more 
than  to  assert,  that  articulated  sounds  are  things  of  moral  in- 
differency  ?  and  that  we  may  relate  a  fact  accurately  and  nev- 
ertheless deceive  grossly  and  wickedly  ?  Blifil  related  accu- 
rately Tom  Jones's  riotous  joy  during  his  benefactor's  illness, 
only  omitting  that  this  joy  was  occasioned  by  the  physician's 
having  pronounced  him  out  of  danger.  Blifil  was  not  the  less 
a  liar  for  being  an  accurate  matter-of-fact  liar.  Tell-truths  in 
the  service  of  falsehood  we  find  every  where,  of  various  names 
and  various  occupations,  from  the  elderly  young  women  that 
discuss  the  love-affairs  of  their  friends  and  acquaintance  at  the 
village  tea-tables,  to  the  anonymous  calumniators  of  literary 
merit  in  reviews,  and  the  more  darling  malignants,  who  dole 
out  discontent,  innovation  and  panic,  in  political  journals  :  and  a 
most  pernicious  race  of  liars  they  are  !  But  who  ever  doubted 
it  ?  Why  should  our  moral  feelings  be  shocked,  and  the  holiest 
words  with  all  their  venerable  associations  be  profaned,  in  or- 
der to  bring  forth  a  Truism  ?  But  thus  it  is  for  the  most  part 
with  the  venders  of  startling  paradoxes.  In  the  sense  in  which 
they  are  to  gain  for  their  author  the  character  of  a  bold  and 
original  thinker,  they  are  false  even  to  absurdity  ;  and  the  sense 
in  which  they  are  true  and  harmless,  conveys  so  mere  a  Tru- 
ism, that  it  even  borders  on  Nonsense.  How  often  have  we 
heard  "The  Rights  of  Man — hurra! The  Sovereign- 
ty OF  the  People — hurra  !"  roared  out  by  men  who,  if  call- 
ed upon  in  another  place  and  before  another  audience,  to  ex- 
plain themselves,  would  give  to  the  words,  a  meaning,  in  which 
the  most  monarchical  of  their  political  opponents  would  admit 
them  to  be  true,  but  which  would  contain  nothing  new,  or 
strange,  or  stimulant,  nothing  to  flatter  the  pride  or  kindle  the 
passions  of  the  populace. 


ESSAY    YII. 


.^/  profanum  vulgus  lectorum  quomodo  arcendum  est  ?  Lihns7ie  nosliis  juhea- 
7)uis,  id  coram  indignh  obinidescant  ?  Si  li7iguis,  id  dicitur,  einoi-tuis  utavmr, 
eheu  !  ingenium  quoque  7iobis  ernortuum  jacet :  sin  aliter,  Minerva  secreta  eras- 
sis  ludibrium  divulga7nus,  et  Dianam  7iostra7n  impw'is  hitjus  sceculi  Acta:o7iihus 
nudam  prqfo'imus.  Jlespo7uleo : — ad  i7icommoditaies  Imjusmodi  evita7idas, 
nee  Greece  7iec  Latine  scribere  opus  est.  Siifficiet,  nos  sicca  luce  usos  fuisse  et 
stnctiorc  argU7ne7dandi  methodo.  Sujiciet,  vmoceider,  idiliter  scripsisse  :  eve7i- 
tus  est  apud  lectorem.  JVuper  e7nptum  est  a  7iobis  Cicei-07iianmn  istud  "  de 
officiis,'"  opus  quod  semper  pcene  Christiano  dignum  putubamus,  Mi7'um !  libel- 
lus  factum  fuerat  fainosissimus.  Credisne  ?  Vix :  at  quomodo  ?  Maligna 
quodam,  nescio  quern,  plena  margine  et  super  tergo,  a7motatum  est  et  cxempiis, 
cahuimiis  potius,  supo-fcetatum !  Sic  et  qui  iidrojsum  uritur  injlammationes 
animi  vel  Catoimmis  (7ie  dicam,  sacrosanctis)  pagi7iis  accipit.  Omni  aura 
mo7is,  omnibus  scriptis  7ne7is,  ignita  vcscitur. 

RuDOLPHi  Langii  Epist :  ad  Amicuin  quemdani  Italicum  in  qua 
LingTia;  patriaj  et  hodiernal  iisum  defendit  et  eruditis  coinmendat. 

JVec  7ne  fallit,  id  mi  corporlbus  honmiwn  sic  in  animis  midtiplici  passione  affectis, 
medicameida  ve/'borwn  imdtis  intffi.cacia  visum  in.  Sed  7iec  illud  quoque  me 
prwtei-it,  lit  invisibihs  animorum  7)wrbos,  sic  invisibilia  esse  7'emcdia.  Falsis 
opinionibvs  circumvtnti  veris  se7ite7itiis  libera7idi  su7d,  id  qui  audiendo  ceci- 
deraid  audiendo  co7isurga7d. 

Petkarcha:  Pielat.  in  lib.  dc;  renifd.  utriusqiie  fortunaj. 

(Translatio7i.)  ]Jiil  liow  are  we  to  guard  against  the  herd  of  proniiscuous 
Readers?  Can  we  bid  our  books  he  silent  in  the  i>resejice  of  the  unworthy? 
If  we  employ  what  are  called  the  dead  languages,  our  own  genius,  alas! 
becomes  flat  and  dead  :  and  if  we  embody  oin*  thoughts  in  the  words  native 
to  tlicm  or  in  which  they  were  conceived,  we  divulge  the  secrets  of  Miner- 
va to  the  ridicule  of  blockheads,  and  expose  our  Diana  to  the  Acta^ons  of  a 
sensual  age.  I  reply  :  that  in  order  to  avoid  inconveniences  of  this  kind,  we 
need  write  neither  in  Greek  or  in  Latin.  It  will  be  enough,  if  we  abstain 
from  apj)ealing  to  the  bad  passions  and  low  appetites,  and  confine  ourselves 
to  a  strictly  consequent  method  of  reasoning. 

To  have  written  innocently,  and  for  wise  pur])ORes,  is  all  that  can  be  re- 
quir<(l  of  us:   the  event  lies  with  the  Reader.     I  purchased  lately  Cicero's 


43 

work,  de  officiia,  which  I  had  ulways  considered  as  ulniost  worthy  of  a 
Christian.  To  my  surprize  it  had  i)econie  a  most  flagrant  hbel.  Nay !  but 
liovv? — Some  one,  I  know  not  who,  out  of  tlie  fruitfuhiess  of  his  own  mahg- 
nity  had  tilled  all  the  margins  and  other  blank  spaces  with  annotations — a 
true  supeifcetation  of  examples,  that  is,  of  false  and  slanderous  tales!  In  like 
manner,  the  slave  of  impure  desires  will  turn  the  pages  of  Cato,  not  to  say, 
Scripture  itself,  into  occasions  and  excitements  of  wanton  imaginations. 
There  is  no  wind  but  feeds  a  volcano,  no  work  but  feeds  and  fans  a  combus- 
tible mind. 

I  am  well  aware,  that  words  will  ai)pear  to  many  as  inefiicacious  medi- 
cines when  administered  to  minds  agitated  with  manifold  passions,  as  when 
they  are  muttered  by  way  of  charm  over  bodily  ailments.  But  neither  does 
it  escape  me,  on  the  other  hand,  that  as  the  diseases  of  the  mind  are  invisi- 
ble, invisble  must  the  remedies  likewise  be.  Those  who  have  been  entrapped 
by  false  opinions  are  to  be  liberated  by  convincing  truths:  that  thus  having  im- 
bibed the  poison  through  the  car  they  may  receive  the  antidote  by  the  same 
channel. 


That  our  elder  writers,  to  Jeremy  Taylor  inclusive,  quoted 
to  excess,  it  would  be  the  very  blindness  of  partiality  to  deny. 
More  than  one  might  be  mentioned,  whose  works  might  be  char- 
acterized in  the  words  of  Milton,  as  "a  paroxysm  of  citations, 
pampered  metaphors,  and  aphorisming  pedantry."  On  the  oth- 
er hand,  it  seems  to  me  that  we  now  avoid  quotations  with  an 
anxiety  that  offends  in  the  contrary  extreme.  Yet  it  is  the  beau- 
ty and  independent  worth  of  the  citations  far  more  than  their 
appropriateness  which  have  made  Johnson's  Dictionary  popular 
even  as  a  reading  book — and  the  niottos  with  the  translations 
of  them  are  known  to  add  considerably  to  the  value  of  the 
Spectator.  With  this  conviction  I  have  taken  more  than  com- 
mon pains  in  the  selection  of  the  mottos  for  the  Friend  :  and  of 
two  mottos  equally  appropriate  prefer  always  that  from  the  book 
which  is  least  likely  to  have  come  into  my  Reader's  hands. 
For  I  often  please  myself  with  the  fancy,  now  that  I  may  have 
saved  from  oblivion  the  only  striking  passage  in  a  whole  volume, 
and  now  that  I  may  have  attracted  notice  to  a  writer  undeserve- 
dly forgotten.  If  this  should  be  attributed  to  a  silly  ambition  in 
the  display  of  various  reading,  I  can  do  no  more  than  deny  any 
consciousness  of  having  been  so  actuated  :  and  for  the  rest,  I 
must  console  myself  by  the  reflection,  that  if  it  be  one  of  the 
most  foolish,  it  is  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  most  harmless,  of 
human  vanities. 


44 

The  passages  prefixed  lead  at  once  to  the  question,  which 
will  probably  have  more  than  once  occurred  to  the  reflecting 
reader  of  the  preceding  Essay.  How  will  these  rules  apply  to 
the  most  important  mode  of  communication  ?  to  that,  in  which 
one  man  may  utter  his  thoughts  to  myriads  of  men  at  the  same 
time,  and  to  myriads  of  myriads  at  various  times  and  through 
successions  of  generations  ?  How  do  they  apply  to  authors, 
whose  foreknowledge  assuredly  does  not  inform  them  who,  or 
how  many,  or  of  what  description  their  Readers  will  be  ? 
How  do  these  rules  apply  to  books,  which  once  published,  are 
as  likely  to  fall  in  the  way  of  the  incompetent  as  of  the  judi- 
cious, and  will  be  fortunate  indeed  if  they  are  not  many  times 
looked  at  through  the  thick  mists  of  ignorance,  or  amid  the  glare 
of  prejudice  and  passion  ? — We  answer  in  the  first  place,  that 
this  is  not  universally  true.  The  readers  are  not  seldom  picked 
and  chosen.  Relations  of  certain  pretended  miracles  performed 
a  few  years  ago,  at  Holywell,  in  consequence  of  prayers  to  the 
Virgin  Mary,  on  female  servants,  and  these  relations  moralized 
by  the  old  Roman  Catholic  arguments  without  the  old  protest- 
ant  answers,  have  to  my  knowledge  been  sold  by  travelling 
pedlars  in  villages  and  farm-houses,  not  only  in  a  form  which 
placed  them  within  the  reach  of  the  narrowest  means,  but  sold 
at  a  price  less  than  their  prime  cost,  and  doubtless,  thrown  in 
occasionally  as  the  make-weight  in  a  bargain  of  pins  and  stay- 
tape.  Shall  I  be  told,  that  the  publishers  and  reverend  au- 
thorizers  of  these  base  and  vulgar  delusions  had  exerted  no 
choice  as  to  the  purchasers  and  readers?  But  waiving  this,  or 
rather  having  first  pointed  it  out,  as  an  important  exception,  we 
further  reply  :  that  if  the  Author  have  clearly  and  rightly  es- 
tablished in  his  own  mind  the  class  of  readers,  to  which  he 
means  to  address  his  communications ;  and  if  both  in  this 
choice,  and  in  the  particulars  of  the  manner  and  matter  of  his 
work,  he  conscientiously  observes  all  the  conditions  which  rea- 
son and  conscience  have  been  shewn  to  dictate,  in  relation  to 
those  for  whom  the  work  was  designed  ;  he  will,  in  most  in- 
stances, have  effected  his  design  and  realized  the  desired  cir- 
cumscription. The  posthumous  work  of  Spinoza  [Ethica  or- 
dine  geometrico  clemonstrata)  may,  indeed,  accidentally  fall  into 
the  hands  of  an  incompetent  reader.  But  (not  to  mention, 
that  it  is  written  in  a  dead  language)  it  will  be  entirely  harm- 
less, because  it  must  needs  be  utterly  unintelligible.     I  ven- 


45 

ture  to  assert,  that  the  whole  first  book,  De  Deo,  might  be  read 
in  literal  English  translation  to  any  congregation  in  the  kingdom, 
and  that  no  individual,  who  had  not  been  habituated  to  the 
strictest  and  most  laborious  processes  of  reasoning,  would  even 
suspect  its  orthodoxy  or  piety,  however  heavily  the  few  who 
listened  would  complain  of  its  obscurity  and  want  of  interest. 
This,  it  may  be  objected,  is  an  extreme  case.  But  it  is  not 
so  for  the  present  purpose.  We  are  speaking  of  the  probability 
of  injurious  consequences  from  the  communication  of  Truth. 
This  I  have  denied,  if  the  right  means  have  been  adopted,  and 
the  necessary  conditions  adhered  to,  for  its  actual  communica- 
tion. Now  the  truths  conveyed  in  a  book  are  either  evident  of 
themselves,  or  such  as  require  a  train  of  deductions  of  proof: 
and  the  latter  will  be  either  such  as  are  authorized  and  gener- 
ally received  ;  or  such  as  are  in  opposition  to  received  and  au- 
thorized opinions ;  or  lastly,  truths  presented  for  the  appropri- 
ate test  of  examination,  and  still  under  trial  (adhuc  sub  lite.) 
Of  this  latter  class  I  affirm,  that  in  neither  of  the  three  sort  can 
an  instance  be  brought  of  a  preponderance  of  ill-consequences, 
or  even  of  an  equilibrium  of  advantage  and  injury  from  a  work, 
in  which  the  understanding  alone  has  been  appealed  to,  by  re- 
sults fairly  deduced  from  just  premises,  in  terms  strictly  appro- 
priate. Alas  !  legitimate  reasoning  is  impossible  without  severe 
thinking,  and  thinking  is  neither  an  easy  nor  an  amusing  em- 
ployment. The  reader,  who  would  follow  a  close  reasoner  to 
the  summit  and  absolute  principle  of  any  one  important  subject, 
has  chosen  a  Chamois-hunter  for  his  guide.  Our  guide  will, 
indeed,  take  us  the  shortest  way,  will  save  us  many  a  weari- 
some and  perilous  wandering,  and  warn  us  of  many  a  mock  road 
that  had  formerly  led  himself  to  the  brink  of  chasms  and  preci- 
pices, or  at  best  in  an  idle  circle  to  the  spot  from  whence  he 
started.  But  he  cannot  carry  us  on  his  shoulders  :  we  must 
strain  our  own  sinews,  as  he  has  strained  his  ;  and  make  firm 
footing  on  the  smooth  rock  for  ourselves,  by  the  blood  of  toil 
from  our  own  feet.  Examine  the  journals  of  our  humane  and 
zealous  missionaries  in  Hindostan.  How  often  and  how  feel- 
ingly do  they  describe  the  difficulty  of  making  the  simplest 
chain  of  reasoning  intelligible  to  the  ordinary  natives  :  the  ra- 
pid exhaustion  of  their  whole  power  of  attention,  and  with  what 
pain  and  distressful  effort  it  is  exerted,  while  it  lasts.  Yet  it  is 
among  this  class,  that  the  hideous  practices  of  self-tortur«  chief- 


46 

ly,  indeed  almost  exclusively,  prevail.  0  if  folly  were  no  easier 
than  wisdom,  it  being  often  so  very  much  more  grievous,  how 
certainly  might  not  these  miserable  men  be  converted  to  Chris- 
tianity ?  But  alas  !  to  swing  by  hooks  passed  through  the  back, 
or  to  walk  on  shoes  with  nails  of  iron  pointed  upward  on  the 
soles,  all  this  is  so  much  less  difficult,  demands  so  very  inferior 
an  exertion  of  the  w  ill  than  to  think,  and  by  thought  to  gain 
Knowledge  and  Tranquility  ! 

It  is  not  true,  that   ignorant  persons   have  no   notion   of  the 
advantages  of  Truth  and  Knowledge.     They  confess,  they  see 
those  advantages  in  the  conduct,  the  immunities,  and  the  supe- 
rior powers  of  the  possessors.     Were  these    attainable   by   Pil- 
grimages the  most  toilsome,  or  Penances  the  most   painful,   we 
should  assuredly  have  as  many  Pilgrims  and  as  many  Self-tor- 
mentors in  the  service  of  true  Religion  and  Virtue,  as  now  ex- 
ist under  the  tyranny  of  Papal  or  Brahman  superstition.     This 
inefficacy  of  legitimate    Reason,  from   the   want   of  fit   objects, 
this  its  relative    weakness  and  how  narrow  at  all  times  its  im- 
mediate sphere  of  action  must  be,  is  proved  to  us  by  the  impos- 
tors of  all  professions.     What,  I  pray,  is  their  fortress,  the  rock 
which  is  both   their   quarry  and  their   foundation,   from   which 
and  on  which  they  are  built  ?     The  desire   of  arriving   at  the 
end  w^ithout  the  effort  of  thought  and   will,   which  are  the  ap- 
pointed means.     Let  us  look  backwards  three  or  four  centuiies. 
Then,  as  now,  the  great  mass  of  mankind  were  governed  by  the 
three  main  wishes,  the  wish    for   vigor  of  body,   including  the 
absence  of  painful  feelings:  for  wealth,  or  the  power  of  procur- 
ing the  internal   conditions  of  bodily   enjoyment:   these  during 
life — and  security  from  pain  and  continuance  of  happiness  after 
death.     Then,  as   now,  men  were  desirous  to  attain   them  by 
some  eaiser  means  than  those    of  Temperance,    Industry,   and 
strict  Justice.     They  gladly  therefore  applied  to  the  Priest,  who 
could  ensure  them  happiness  hereafter  without  the  performance 
of  their   duties  here  ;  to  the  Lawyer   who  could  make  money  a 
substitute  for   a  right  cause  ;  to  the  Physician,  whose  medicines 
promised  to  take  the  sting  out  of  the  tail  of  their  sensual  indul- 
gences,  and   let  them  fondle   and    play   wath   vice,  as   with   a 
charmed  serpent ;  to  the  Alchemist,  whose  gold-tincture  would 
enrich  them  without  toil  or  economy ;  and   to  the   Astrologer, 
from  whom  they  could  purchase  foresight  without  knowledge  or 
reflection.    The  established  professions  were,  without  exception, 
no   other  than  licensed  modes  of  witchcraft.     The  Wizards, 


47 

who  would  now  find  their  due  reward  in  Bridewell,  and  their 
appropriate  honors  in  the  pillory,  sate  then  on  episcopal  thrones, 
candidates  for  Saintship,  and  already  canonized  in  the  belief  of 
their  deluded  contemporaries  ;  while  the  one  or  two  real  teach- 
ers and  Discoverers  of  Truth  were  exposed  to  the  hazard  of  fire 
and  faggot,  a  dungeon  the  best  shrine  that  was  vouchsafed  to  a 
Roger  Bacon  and  a  Galileo ! 


ESSAY  VIII. 


Pray,  why  is  it,  that  people  say  that  men  are  not  such  fools  now-a-days  as  they 
were  in  the  days  of  yore  ?  I  would  fain  know,  whether  you  would  have  us 
understand  by  this  same  saying,  as  indeed  you  logically  may,  that  formerly 
men  were  fools,  and  in  this  generation  are  grown  wise  ?  How  many  and 
what  dispositions  made  them  fools  ?  How  many  and  what  dispositions 
were  wanting  to  make  'cm  wise  ?  Why  were  those  fools  ?  How  should 
these  be  wise?  Pray,  how  came  you  to  know  that  men  were  formerly 
fools?  How  did  you  find,  that  they  are  now  wise?  Who  made  them  fools? 
Who  in  Heaven's  name  made  us  wise  ?  Who  d'ye  think  are  most,  those 
that  loved  mankind  foolish,  or  those  that  love  it  wise  ?  How  long  has  it 
been  wise?  How  long  otherwise?  Whence  proceeded  the  foregoing  fol- 
ly ?  Whence  the  following  wisdom  ?  Why  did  the  old  folly  end  now  and 
no  later  ?  Why  did  the  modern  wisdom  begin  now  and  no  sooner  ?  What 
were  we  the  worse  for  the  former  folly  ?  What  the  better  for  the  suc- 
ceeding wisdom  ?  How  should  the  ancient  folly  have  come  to  nothing? 
How  should  this  same  new  wisdom  be  started  up  and  established  ?    Now 

answer  me,  an't  please  you ! 

Fr.  Rabelais'  Preface  to  his  5th  Book. 


Monsters  and  Madmen  canonized  and  Galileo  blind  in  a 
dungeon!  It  is  not  so  in  our  times.  Heaven  be  praised,  that 
in  this  respect,  at  least,  we  are,  if  not  better,  yetbetter  q^than 
our  foretathers.  But  to  what,  and  to  -whom  (under  Provi- 
dence) do  we  owe  the  improvement?  To  any  radical  change 
in  the  moral  affections  of  mankind    in  general  ?     Perhaps  the 


48 

great   majority  of  men  are  now    fully  conscious  that  they  are 
born  with  the  god-like  faculty  of  Reason,  and  that  it  is  the  bu- 
siness of  life  to  develope  and  apply  it  ?     The  Jacob's  ladder  of 
Truth,  let  down  from  heaven,  with  all  its  numerous  rounds,  is 
now  the  common  highway,  on  which  we  are  content  to  toil  up- 
ward to  the  object  of  our  desires  ?      We  are  ashamed  of  expect- 
ing the  end  without  the  means  ?     In   order  to   answer  these 
questions  in  the  affirmative,  I  must  have  forgotten  the  Animal 
Magnetists  ;  the  proselytes  of  Brothers,  and  of  Joanna  South- 
cot  ;  and  some  hundred  thousand   fanatics  less  original  in  their 
creeds,  but  not  a  whit  more  rational  in  their  expectations  !     I 
must  forget  the  infamous  Empirics,  whose  advertisements  pol- 
lute and  disgrace   all   our   Newspapers,  and    almost  paper  the 
walls  of  our  cities ;  and  the  vending  of  whose  poisons  and  poi- 
sonous drams    (with  shame  and  anguish  be  it  spoken)    support 
a  shop  in  every  market-town?     I  must  forget  that  other  oppro- 
brium of  the  nation,  that  Mother-vice,  the  Lottery  !  I  must  for- 
get that  a  numerous  class  plead   Prudence  for  keeping  their 
fellow-men  ignorant  and  incapable  of  intellectual  enjoyments, 
and  the  Revenue  for  upholding  such  temptations  as  men  so  ig- 
norant will  not  withstand — yes!   that  even  senators  and  officers 
of  state  hold  forth  the  Revenue  as  a  sufficient  plea  for  uphold- 
ing, at  every  fiftieth  door  throughout  the  kingdom,  temptations 
to  the  most  pernicious  vices,  which  fill  the  land  with  mourning, 
and  fit  the  laboring  classes  for  sedition  and  religious  fanaticism! 
Above  all  I  must  forget  the  first  years  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, and  the  millions  throughout  Europe  who  confidently  ex- 
pected the  best  and  choicest  results  of  Knowledge  and  Virtue, 
namely,  Liberty  and  universal  Peace,  from  the  votes  of  a  tu- 
multuous Assembly — that  is,  from  the  mechanical  agitation  of 
the  air  in  a  large  room  at  Paris — and  this  too  in  the  most  light, 
unthinking,  sensual  and  profligate  of  the   European  nations,  a 
nation,  the  very  phrases  of  whose  language   are  so  composed, 
that  they  can  scarcely  speak  without  lying  ! — No  !     Let  us  not 
deceive  ourselves.     Like  the  man  who  used  to  pull  off  his  hat 
with  great  demonstration    of  respect    whenever   he    spoke  of 
himself,  we  are  fond  of  styling  our  own  the  enlightened  age  : 
though  as  Jortin,  I  think,  has  wittily  remarked,  the  golden  age 
would  be  more  appropriate.     But  in  spite  of  our  great  scien- 
tific discoveries,  for  which  praise  be  given  to  whom  the  praise 
is  due,  and  in  spite  of  that  general  indifference  to  all  the  truths 


49 

and  all  the  principles  of  truth,  that  belong  to  our  permanent 
being,  and  therefore  do  not  lie  within  the  sphere  of  our  senses, 
(that  same  indifference  which  makes  toleration  so  easy  a  virtue 
with  us,  and  constitutes  nine-tenths  of  our  pretended  illumina- 
tion) it  still  remains  the  character  of  the  mass  of  mankind  to 
seek  for  the  attainment  of  their  necessary  ends  by  any  means 
rather  than  the  appointed  ones ;  and  for  this  cause  only,  that 
the  latter  imply  the  exertion  of  the  Reason  and  the  Will.  But 
of  all  things  this  demands  the  longest  apprenticeship,  even 
an  apprenticeship  from  Infancy  ;  which  is  generally  neglected, 
because  an  excellence,  that  may  and  should  belong  to  all  men, 
is  expected  to  come  to  every  man  of  its  own  accord. 

To  whom  then  do  we  owe  our  ameliorated  condition  ?  To 
the  successive  Few  in  every  age  (more  indeed  in  one  genera- 
tion than  in  another,  but  relatively  to  the  mass  of  mankind  al- 
ways few)  who  by  the  intensity  and  permanence  of  their  ac- 
tion have  compensated  for  the  limited  sphere,  within  which 
it  is  at  any  one  time  intelligible ;  and  whose  good  deeds  pos- 
terity reverence  in  their  result,  though  the  mode,  in  which  we 
repair  the  inevitable  waste  of  time,  and  the  style  of  our  addi- 
tions, too  generally  furnish  a  sad  proof,  how  little  we  under- 
stand the  principles.  I  appeal  to  the  Histories  of  the  Jewish, 
the  Grecian,  and  the  Roman  Republics,  to  the  Records  of  the 
Christian  Church,  to  the  History  of  Europe  from  the  Treaty 
of  Westphalia  (1648).  What  do  they  contain  but  accounts  of 
noble  structures  raised  by  the  wisdom  of  the  few,  and  gradual- 
ly undermined  by  the  ignorance  and  profligacy  of  the  many .' 
If  therefore  the  deficiency  of  good,  which  every- where  sur- 
rounds us,  orginate  in  the  general  unfitness  and  aversions  of 
men  to  the  process  of  thought,  that  is,  to  continuous  reasoning, 
it  must  surely  be  absurd  to  apprehend  a  preponderance  of  evil 
from  works  which  cannot  act  at  all  except  as  far  as  they  call 
the  reasoning  faculties  into  full  co-exertion  with  them. 

Still,  however,  there  are  truths  so  self-evident  or  so  imme- 
diately and  palpably  deduced  from  those  that  are,  or  are  ac- 
knowledged for  such,  that  they  are  at  once  intelligible  to  all 
men,  who  possess  the  common  advantages  of  the  social  state  ; 
although  by  sophistry,  by  evil  habits,  by  the  neglect,  false 
persuasions,  and  impostures  of  an  anti-christian  priesthood  join- 
ed in  one  conspiracy  with  the  violence  of  tyrannical  governors, 
the  understandings  of  men  may  become  so  darkened  and  their 
7 


50 

consciences  so  lethargic,  that  there  may  arise  a  necessity  for 
the  republication  of  these  truths,  and  this  too  with  a  voice  of 
loud  alarm,  and  impassioned  warning.  Such  were  the  doc- 
trines proclaimed  by  the  first  Christians  to  the  Pagan  world  ; 
such  were  the  lightnings  flashed  by  Wickliff,  Huss,  Luther, 
Calvin,  Zuinglius,  Latimer,  &c.  across  the  Papal  darkness  ;  and 
such  in  our  own  times  the  agitating  truths,  with  which  Thomas 
Clarkson,  and  his  excellent  confederates,  the  Quakers,  fought 
and  conquered  the  legalized  banditti  of  men-stealers,  the  numer- 
ous and  powerful  perpetrators  and  advocates  of  rapine,  murder, 
and  (of  blacker  guilt  than  either)  slavery.  Truths  of  this  kind 
being  indispensable  to  man,  considered  as  a  moral  being, 
are  above  all  expedience,  all  accidental  consequences  :  for  as 
sure  as  God  is  holy,  and  man  immortal,  there  can  be  no  evil  so 
great  as  the  ignorance  or  disregard  of  them.  It  is  the  very 
madness  of  mock  prudence  to  oppose  the  removal  of  a  poison- 
ed dish  on  account  of  the  pleasant  sauces  or  nutritious  viands 
which  would  be  lost  with  it !  The  dish  contains  destruction 
to  that,  for  which  alone  we  ought  to  wish  the  palate  to  be  grati- 
fied, or  the  body  to  be  nourished. 

The  sole  condition,  therefore,  imposed  on  us  by  the  law  of 
conscience  in  these  cases  is,  that  we  employ  no  unworthy  and 
heterogeneous  means  to  realize  the  necessary  end,  that  we  en- 
trust the  event  wholly  to  the  full  and  adequate  promulgation  of 
the  truth,  and  to  those  generous  affections  which  the  constitu- 
tion of  our  moral  nature  has  linked  to  the  full  perception  of  it. 
Yet  evil  may,  nay  it  will  be  occasioned.  Weak  men  may  take 
offence,  and  wicked  men  avail  themselves  of  it ;  though  we 
must  not  attribute  to  the  promulgation,  or  to  the  truth  promul- 
gated, all  the  evil,  of  which  wicked  men  (predetermined,  like 
the  wolf  in  the  fable,  to  create  some  occasion)  may  choose  to 
make  it  the  pretext.  But  that  there  ever  was  or  ever  can  be 
a  preponderance  of  evil,  I  defy  either  the  Historian  to  instance 
or  the  philosopher  to  prove.  "  Let*  it  fly  away,  all  that  chaff 
of  light  faith  that  can  fly  off  at  any  breath  of  temptation  ;  the 
cleaner  will  the  true  grain  be  stored  up  in  the  granary  of  the 
Lord,"   we    are   entitled   to   say   with   Tertullian :  and   to  ex- 

*  Avolent  quantum  volent  palese  levis  fidei  quocunque  afflatu  tentationuno ! 
eo  purior  nriassa  frumenti  in  horrea  doinini  reponetur.  Tertulliaw. 


51 

claim  with  heroic  Luther,  "  Scandal*  and  offence  !  Talk  not 
to  me  of  scandal  and  offence.  Need  breaks  through  stone- 
walls, and  recks  not  of  scandal.  It  is  my  duty  to  spare  weak 
consciences  as  far  as  it  may  be  done  without  hazard  of  my  soul. 
Where  not,  I  must  take  counsel  for  my  soul,  though  half  or  the 
whole  world  should  be  scandalized  thereby." 

Luther  felt  and  preached  and  wrote  and  acted,  as  beseemed 
a  Luther  to  feel  and  utter  and  act.  The  truths,  which  had  been 
outraged,  he  re-proclaimed  in  the  spirit  of  outraged  truth,  at  the 
behest  of  his  conscience  and  in  the  service  of  the  God  of  truth. 
He  did  his  duty,  come  good,  come  evil  :  and  made  no  question, 
on  which  side  the  preponderance  would  be.  In  the  one  scale 
there  was  gold,  and  the  impress  thereon  the  image  and  super- 
scription of  the  Universal  Sovereign.  In  all  the  wide  and  ev- 
er widening  commerce  of  mind  with  mind  throughout  the  world, 
it  is  treason  to  refuse  it.  Can  this  have  a  counter-weight  ? 
The  other  scale  indeed  might  have  seemed  full  up  to  the  very 
balance-yard ;  but  of  what  worth  and  substance  were  its  con- 
tents ?  Were  they  capable  of  being  counted  or  weighed  against 
the  former?  The  conscience  indeed  is  already  violated  when 
to  moral  good  or  evil  we  oppose  things  possessing  no  moral  in- 
terest. Even  if  the  conscience  dared  waive  this  her  preven- 
tive veto,  yet  before  we  could  consider  the  twofold  results  in 
the  relations  of  loss  and  gain,  it  must  be  known  whether  their 
kind  is  the  same  or  equivalent.  They  must  first  be  valu- 
ed, and  then  they  may  be  weighed  or  counted,  if  they  are 
worth  it.  Rut  in  the  particular  case  at  present  before  us,  the 
loss  is  contingent,  and  alien  ;  the  gain  essential  and  the  tree's 
own  natural  produce.  The  gain  is  permanent,  and  spreads 
through  all  times  and  places  ;  the  loss  but  temporary  and,  owing 
its  very  being  to  vice  or  ignorance,  vanishes  at  the  approach  of 
knowledge  and  moral  improvement.  The  gain  reaches  all  good 
men,  belongs  to  all  that  love  light  and  desire  an  increase  of 
light:  to  all  and  of  all  times,  who  thank  Heaven  for  the  gra- 
cious dawn,  and  expect  the  noon-day ;  who  welcome  the  first 
gleams  of  spring,  and  sow   their  fields  in  confident  faith  of  the 

*  Aergerniss  hin,  Aei-gerniss  her!  Noth  bricht  Eisen,  und  hat  kein  Aerger- 
nis3.  Ich  soil  der  sohwachen  Gewissen  schonen  s6  fern  es  ohne  Gefahr 
meiiier  Seelen  geschehii  mag.  Wo  nicht,  so  soil  ich  meiiier  Seelen  rathen, 
©6  Brgere  eich  daran  die  ganze  oder  halba  W&lt. 


52 

ripening  summer  and  the  rewarding  harvest-tide  !  But  the  los3 
is  confined  to  the  unenlightened  and  the  prejudiced — say  rather, 
to  the  weak  and  the  prejudiced  of  a  single  generation.  The 
prejudices  of  one  age  are  condemned  even  by  the  prejudiced 
of  the  succeeding  ages:  for  endless  are  the  modes  of  folly,  and 
the  fool  joins  with  the  wise  in  passing  sentence  on  all  modes 
but  his  own.  Who  cried  out  with  greater  horror  against  the  mur- 
derers of  the  Prophets,  than  those  who  likewise  cried  out,  cruci- 
fy him  !  crucify  him  !  The  truth-haters  of  every  future  genera- 
tion will  call  the  truth-haters  of  the  preceding  ages  by  their 
true  names:  for  even  these  the  stream  of  time  carries  onward. 
In  fine,  Truth  considered  in  it  itself  and  in  the  effects  natural 
to  it,  may  be  conceived  as  a  gentle  spring  or  water-source, 
warm  from  the  genial  earth,  and  breathing  up  into  the  snow 
drift  that  is  piled  over  and  around  its  outlet.  It  turns  the  ob- 
stacle into  its  own  form  and  character,  and  as  it  makes  its  way 
increases  its  stream.  And  should  it  be  arrested  in  its  course 
by  a  chilling  season,  it  suffers  delay,  not  loss,  and  waits  only  for 
a  change  in  the  wind  to  awaken  and  again  roll  onwards. 

/  semplici  pastori 

Sul  Vesolo  nevoso 

Fatti  curvi  e  canuti, 

Z)'  alto  stupor  son  muti 

Mirando  alfonte  ombroso 

11  Po  con  pochi  umori , 

Poscia  udendo  gli  onori 

Deir  urna  angusta  e  stretta,  * 

C/^e7  Adda  che'l  Tesino 

Soverchia  in  sua  cammino, 

Che  ampio  al  mar'  s  affretta 

Che  si  spuma,  e  si  suona, 

Che  gli  si  da  corona!  *  Chiabrera. 

Literal  Translation.  "  The  simple  shepherds  grown  bent  and  hoary-head- 
ed on  the  snowy  Vesolo,  are  mute  with  deep  astonishment,  gazing  in  the 
overshadowed  fountain  on  the  Po  with  his  scanty  waters ;  then  hearing  of 
the  honors  of  his  confined  and  narrow  urn,  how  he  receives  as  a  sovereign 
the  Adda  and  the  Tesi?jo  in  Jiis  course,  how  ample  he  hastens  on  to  the  sea, 
how  he  foams,  how  mighty  his  voice,  and  that  to  him  the  crown  is  assigned." 

*  I  give  literal  translations  of  my  poetic  as  well  as  jn-ose  quotations:  be- 
cause the  propriety  of  their  introduction  often  depends  on  the  exact  sense  and 
order  of  the  words  :  which  it  is  impossible  always  to  retain  in  a  metrical  ver- 
sion. 


ESSAY    IX. 


Great  men  have  liv'd  among  us,  Heads  tliat  plann'd 
And  Tongues  tliat  utter'd  Wisdom — better  none. 
********* 

Even  so  doth  Heaven  protect  us  ! 

Wordsworth. 


In  the  preceding  Number  I  have  explained  the  good,  that  is, 
the  natural  consequences  of  the  promulgation  to  all  of  truths 
which  all  are  bound  to  know  and  to  make  known.  The  evils 
occasioned  by  it,  with  few  and  rare  exceptions,  have  their  ori- 
gin in  the  attempts  to  suppress  or  pervert  it ;  in  the  fury  and 
violence  of  imposture  attacked  or  undermined  in  her  strong 
holds,  or  in  the  extravagances  of  ignorance  and  credulity  rous- 
ed from  their  lethargy,  and  angry  at  the  medicinal  disturbance — 
awakening  not  yet  broad  awake,  and  thus  blending  the  mon- 
sters of  uneasy  dreams  with  the  real  objects,  on  which  the 
drowsy  eye  had  alternately  half-opened  and  closed,  again  half- 
opened  and  again  closed.  This  re-action  of  deceit  and  super- 
stition, with  all  the  trouble  and  tumult  incident,  I  would  com- 
pare to  a  fire  which  bursts  forth  from  some  stifled  and  ferment- 
ing mass  on  the  first  admission  of  light  and  air.  It  roars  and 
blazes,  and  converts  the  already  spoilt  or  damaged  stuff"  with  all 
the  straw  and  straw-like  matter  near  it,  first  into  flame  and  the 
next  moment  into  ashes.  The  fire  dies  away,  the  ashes  are 
scattered  on  all  the  winds,  and  what  began  in  worthlessness 
ends  in  nothingness.  Such  are  the  evil,  that  is,  the  casual  con- 
sequences of  the  same  promulgation. 

It  argues  a  narrow  or  corrupt  nature  to  lose  the  general  and 
lasting  consequences  of  rare  and  virtuous  energy,  in  the  brief 
accidents,  which  accompanied  its  first  movements — to  set  light- 


54 

Ij  by  the  emancipation  of  the  human  reason  from  a  legion  of 
devils,  in  our  complaints  and  lamentations  over  the  loss  of  a 
herd  of  swine  !  The  Cranmers,  Hampdens,  and  Sidneys :  the 
counsellors  of  our  Elizabeth,  and  the  friends  of  our  other  great 
Deliverer,  the  third  William, — is  it  in  vain,  that  these  have 
been  our  countrymen  ?  Are  we  not  the  heirs  of  their  good 
deeds?  And  what  are  noble  deeds  but  noble  truths  realized? 
As  Protestants,  as  Englishmen,  as  the  inheritors  of  so  ample  an 
estate  of  might  and  right,  an  estate  so  strongly  fenced,  so  rich- 
ly planted,  by  the  sinewy  arms  and  dauntless  hearts  of  o-ur 
forefathers,  we  of  all  others  have  good  cause  to  trust  in  the 
truth,  yea,  to  follow  its  pillar  of  tire  through  the  darkness  and 
the  desart,  even  though  its  light  should  but  suffice  to  make  us 
certain  of  its  own  presence.  If  there  be  elsewhere  men  jeal- 
ous of  the  light,  who  prophecy  an  excess  of  evil  over  good 
from  its  manifestation,  A\e  are  entitled  to  ask  them,  on  what  ex- 
perience they  ground  their  bodings  ?  Our  own  country  bears 
no  traces,  our  own  history  contains  no  records,  to  justify  them. 
From  the  great  seras  of  national  illumination  we  date  the  com- 
mencement of  our  main  national  advantages.  The  tangle  of 
delusions,  which  stifled  and  distorted  the  growing  tree,  have 
been  torn  away ;  the  parasite  weeds,  that  fed  on  its  very  roots, 
have  been  plucked  up  with  a  salutary  violence.  To  us  there 
remain  only  quiet  duties,  the  constant  care,  the  gradual  im- 
provement, the  cautious  unhazardous  labors  of  the  industrious 
though  contented  gardener — to  prune,  to  engraft,  and  one  by 
one  to  remove  from  its  leaves  and  fresh  shoots  the  slug  and  the 
caterpillar.  But  far  be  it  from  us  to  undervalue  with  light  and 
senseless  detraction  the  conscientious  hardihood  of  our  pre- 
decessors, or  even  to  condemn  in  them  that  vehemence,  to 
which  the  blessings  it  won  for  us  leave  us  now  neither  tempta- 
tion or  pretext.  That  the  very  terms,  with  which  the  bigot  or 
the  hireling  would  blacken  the  first  publishers  of  political  and 
religious  Truth,  are,  and  deserve  to  be,  hateful  to  us,  we  owe 
to  the  effects  of  its  publication.  We  ante-date  the  feelings  in 
order  (o  criminate  the  authors  of  our  tranquility,  opulence,  and 
security.  But  let  us  be  aware.  Effects  will  not,  indeed,  im- 
mediately disappear  with  their  causes ;  but  neither  can  they 
long  continue  without  them.  If  by  the  7'eception  of  Truth  in 
the  spirit  of  Truth,  we  became  what  we  are:  only  by  the  re- 
tention of  it  in  the  same  spirit,  can  we  remain  what  we  are. 


55 

The  narrow  seas  that  form  our  boundaries,  what  were  they  in 
times  of  old  ?  The  convenient  highway  for  Danish  and  Nor- 
man pirates.  What  are  they  now?  Still  but  "a  Span  of  Wa- 
ters."— Yet  they  roll  at  the  base  of  the  inisled  Ararat,  on 
which  the  Ark  of  the  Hope  of  Europe  and  of  Civilization 
rested  ! 

Even  so  doth  God  protect  us,  if  we  be 
Virtuous  and  Wise.     Winds  blow  and  Waters  roll, 
Strength  to  the  Brave,  and  Power  and  Deity: 
Yet  in  themselves  are  nothing!     One  Decree 
Spake  Laws  to  therii,  and  said  that  by  the  Sold 
Only  the  Nations  shall  be  great  and  free  ! 

Wordsworth. 


ESSAY    X. 


I  deny  not  but  that  it  is  of  greatest  concernment  in  the  church  and  com- 
monwealth to  have  a  vigilant  eye  how  books  demean  themselves  as  well 
as  men.  For  books  are  not  absolutely  dead  things,  but  do  contain  a  pro- 
geny of  life  in  them  to  be  as  active  as  that  soul  was  \\  hose  progeny  the}"^  are. 
I  know  they  are  as  lively  and  as  vigorously  ftrodurtive  as  those  fabulous 
dragon's  teeth:  and  being  sown  up  and  down  may  chance  to  spring  up  arm- 
ed men.  And  3'et  on  the  other  hand,  unless  wariness  be  used,  as  good  al- 
most kill  a  man  as  kill  a  good  book.  Many  a  man  lives  a  burthen  to  the 
earth  ;  but  a  good  book  is  the  precious  life-blood  of  a  master  spirit,  em- 
balmed and  treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a  life  beyond  life. — Miltoi^'s  Speech 
for  the  Liberty  of  imlicensed  Printing. 


Thus  far  then  I  have  been  conducting  a  cause  between  an 
individual  and  his  own  mind.  Proceeding  on  the  conviction, 
that  to  man  is  entrusted  the  nature,  not  the  result  of  his  ac- 
tions, I  have  presupposed  no  calculations.  I  have  presumed 
no  foresight. — Introduce  no  contradiction  into  thy  own  con- 
sciousness. Acting  or  abstaining  from  action,  delivering  or 
withholding  thy  thoughts,  whatsoever  thou  dost,  do  it  in  single- 
ness of  heart.     In  all  things  therefore  let  thy  means  correspond 


56 

to  thy  purpose,  and  let  the  purpose  be  one  with  the  purport. — 
To  this  principle  I  have  referred  the  supposed  individual,  and 
from  this  principle  solely  I  have  deduced  each  particular  of  his 
conduct.  As  far,  therefore,  as  the  court  of  Conscience  ex- 
tends, (and  in  this  court  alone  I  have  been  pleading  hitherto) 
I  have  won  the  cause.  It  has  been  decided,  that  there  is  no 
just  ground  for  apprehending  mischief  from  Truth  communica- 
ted conscientiously,  (i.  e.  with  a  strict  observance  of  all  the 
conditions  required  by  the  Conscience) — that  what  is  not  so 
communicated,  is  falsehood,  and  that  to  the  Falsehood,  not  to 
the  Truth,  must  the  ill  consequences  be  attributed. 

Another  and  altogether  different  cause  remains  now  to  be 
pleaded  ;  a  different  cause,  and  in  a  different  court.  The  par- 
ties concerned  are  no  longer  the  well-meaning  Individual  and 
his  Conscience,  but  the  Citizen  and  the  State — The  Citizen, 
who  may  be  a  fanatic  as  probably  as  a  philosopher,  and  the 
State,  which  concerns  itself  with  the  Conscience  only  as  far  as 
it  appears  in  the  action,  or  still  more  accurately,  in  the  fact ; 
and  which  must  determine  the  nature  of  the  fact  not  merely  by 
a  rule  of  Right  formed  from  the  modification  of  particular  by 
general  consequences,  not  merely  by  a  principle  of  compromise, 
that  reduces  the  freedom  of  each  citizen  to  the  common  mea- 
sure in  which  it  becomes  compatible  with  the  freedom  of  all; 
but  likewise  by  the  relation  which  the  facts  bear  to  its  (the 
State's)  own  instinctive  principle  of  self-preservation.  For 
every  depository  of  the  Supreme  Power  must  presume  itself 
rightful :  and  as  the  source  of  law  not  legally  to  be  endanger- 
ed. A  form  of  government  may  indeed,  in  reality,  be  most 
pernicious  to  the  governed,  and  the  highest  moral  honor  may 
await  the  patriot  who  risks  his  life  in  order  by  its  subversion 
to  introduce  a  better  and  juster  constitution  ;  but  it  would  be 
absurd  to  blame  the  law  by  which  his  life  is  declared  forfeit. 
It  were  to  expect,  that  by  an  involved  contradiction  the  law 
should  allow  itself  not  to  be  law,  by  allowing  the  State,  of 
which  it  is  a  part,  not  to  be  a  State.  For  as  Hooker  has  well 
observed,  the  law  of  men's  actions  is  one,  if  they  be  respected 
only  as  men  ;  and  another,  when  they  are  considered  as  parts 
of  a  body  politic. 

But  though  every  government  subsisting  inlaw  (for  pure 
lawless  despotism  grounding  itself  wholly  on  terror  precludes 
all  consideration  of  duty) — though  every  government  subsist- 


67 

ing  in  law  must,  and  ought  to,  regard  itself  as  the  life  of  the 
body  politic,  of  which  it  is  the  head,  and  consequently  must  pun- 
ish every  attempt  against  itself  as  an  act  of  assault  or  murder, 
i.  e.  sedition  or  treason  ;  yet  still  it  ought  so  to  secure  the  life  as 
not  to  prevent  the  conditions  of  its  growth,  and  of  that  adapta- 
tion to  circumstances,  without  which  its  very  life  becomes  in- 
secure. In  the  application,  therefore,  of  these  principles  to 
the  public  communication  of  opinions  by  the  most  efficient 
means,  the  Press — we  have  to  decide,  whether  consistently 
with  them  there  should  be  any  liberty  of  the  press  ;  and  if  this 
be  answered  in  the  affirmative,  what  shall  be  declared  abuses 
of  that  liberty,  and  made  punishable  as  such  ;  and  in  what  way 
the  general  law  shall  be  applied  to  each  particular  case. 

First  then,  should  there  be  any  liberty  of  the  press  ?  we 
will  not  here  mean,  whether  it  should  be  permitted  to  print 
books  at  all;  (for  our  Essay  has  little  chance  of  being  read  in 
Turkey,  and  in  any  other  part  of  Europe  it  cannot  be  supposed 
questionable )  but  whether  by  the  appointment  of  a  Censorship 
the  Government  should  take  upon  itself  the  responsibility  of  each 
particular  publication.  In  Governments  purely  monarchical 
(i.  e.  oligarchies  under  one  head)  the  balance  of  the  advan- 
tage and  disadvantage  from  this  monopoly  of  the  press  will  un- 
doubtedly be  affected  by  the  general  state  of  information ; 
though  after  reading  Milton's  "  Speech  for  the  liberty  of  unli- 
censed Printing*"  we  shall  probably  be  inclined  to  belive,  that 
the  best  argument  in  favor  of  licensing,  &c.  under  any  constitu- 
tion is  that,  which  supposing  the  ruler  to  have  a  dijfiferent  inter- 
est from  that  of  his  country,  and  even  from  himself  as  a  rea- 
sonable and  moral  creature,  grounds  itself  on  the  incompatibili- 
ty of  knowledge  with  folly,  oppression,  and  degradation.  What 
our  prophetic  Harrington  said  of  religious,  applies  eqally  to  li- 
terary toleration.  "  If  it  be  said  that  in  France  there  is  liberty 
of  conscience  in  part,  it  is  also  plain  that  while  the  hierarchy 
is  standing,  this   liberty  is  falling  ;  and  that  if  on  the  contrary, 

*  II  y  a  un  voile  qui  doit  toujour  couvrir  tout  ce  quo  I'on  peut  dii-e  et  tout 
ce  qu'  on  peut  croire  du  Droit  des  peuples  et  de  celui  des  princes,  que  ne 
s'  ac-cordent  jamais  si  bicn  ensemble  que  dans  le  silence. 

Mem,  du  Card.  de.  Retz. 

How  severe  a  satire  where  it  can  be  justly  applied !  how  false  and  calum- 
niouB  if  meant  as  a  general  maxim! 

8 


58 

it  comes  to  pull  down  the  Hierarchy,  it  pulls  down  that  Mon- 
archy also  ;  wherefore  the  Monarchy  or  Hierarchy  will  be  be- 
forehand with  it,  if  they  see  their  true  interest."  On  the  other 
hand,  there  is  no  slight  danger  from  general  ignorance ;  and 
the  only  choice,  which  providence  has  graciously  left  to  a  vi- 
cious Government,  is  either  to  fall  by  the  People,  if  they  are 
suiTered  to  become  enlightened,  or  icith  them,  if  they  are  kept 
enslaved  and  ignorant. 

The  nature  of  our  Constitution,  since  the  revolution,  the  state 
of  our  literature,  and  the  wide  diftusion,   if  not   of  intellectual 
yet  of  literary  power,  and  the  almost  universal  interest  in  the 
productions  of  literature,  have  set  the  question  at  rest  relative- 
ly to  the  British  press.     However  great  the  advantages  of  pre- 
vious examination  might  be   under  other  circumstances,  in  this 
country  it  would  be  both  impracticable  and  inefficient.     I  need 
only  suggest  in   broken  sentences — the   prodigious  number  of 
licensers  that  would  be  requisite — the  variety  of  their  attain- 
ments, and  (inasmuch  as  the  scheme  must  be  made  consistent 
with  our  religious  freedom)  the  ludicrous  variety  of  their  prin- 
ciples and  creeds — their  number  being  so  great,   and  each  ap- 
pointed censor  being   himself  a   man  of  letters,   quis  custodiet 
ipsos  custodes  9 — If  these  numerous  licensers  hold  their  offices 
for  life,  and  independent  of  the  ministry  pro  tempore^   a  new 
heterogeneous,  and  alarming  power   is   introduced,   which    can 
never  be  assimilated  to  the  constitutional  powers   already   ex- 
isting:— if  they  are  removeable  at  pleasure,   that  which  is  he- 
retical and  seditious  in  1809,  may  become  orthordox  and  loyal 
in  1810 — and  \\hat  man,  whose  attainments  and  moral  respec- 
tability gave  him   even  an   endurable    claim  to  this  awful  trust, 
would  accept  a  situation  at  once  so  invidious  and  so  precarious  ^ 
And  what  institution  can  retain  any   useful  influence  in  so  free 
a  nation,  when  its  abuses  have  made  it   contemptible? — Lastly, 
and  which  of  itself  would  suffice  to  justify  the  rejection  of  such 
a  plan — unless  all  proportion  between   crime    and  punishment 
were  abandoned,  what  penalties   could   the  law   attach   to  the 
assumption  of  a  liberty,  which  it  had  denied,  more  severe  than 
those  which  it  now  attaches  to   the  abuse  of  the  liberty,  which 
it  grants  .''     In  all  those  instances  at  least,  which   it   would   be 
most  the  inclination — perhaps  the  duty — of  the  State  to  prevent, 
namely,  in  seditious  and  incendiary  publications  (whether  ac- 
tually such,  or  only  such  as  the  existing  Government  chose  so 


59 

to  denominate,  makes  no  difference  in   the  argument)  the  pub- 
lisher, who  hazards  the  punishment  now  assigned   to   seditious 
publications,  would  assuredly  hazard   the  penalties  of  unlicens- 
ed ones,  especially  as  the  very  practice   of  licensing  would  na- 
turally diminish  the  attention  to  the  contents  of  the  works  pub- 
lished, the  chance  of  impunity   therefore   be  so   much   greater, 
and  the  artifice  of  prefixing  an   unauthorised   license   so  likely 
to  escape  detection.     It  is  a  fact,   that  in  many  of  the  former 
German  States  in  which  literature    flourished,  notwithstanding 
the  establishment  of  censors  or  licensors,   three  fourths  of  the 
books  printed   were   unlicensed — even  those,   the  contents  of 
which  were  unobjectionable,  and  where  the  sole  motive  for  eva- 
ding the  law,  must  have  been  either  the  pride    and  delicacy  of 
the  author,   or  the  indolence  of  the   bookseller.     So   difficult 
was  the  detection,  so  various  the  means  of  evasion,  and  worse 
than  all,  from  the  nature  of  the   law  and  the  affront  it  offers  to 
the  pride  of  human  nature,  such  was  the   merit  attached  to  the 
breach  of  it — a  merit  commencing  perhaps  with  Luther's  Bible, 
and  other  prohibited  works   of  similar  great   minds,   published 
with  no  dissimilar  purpose,  and  thence  by  many  an  intermedi- 
ate link  of  association  finally  connected  with  books,  of  the  very 
titles  of  which  a  good  man    would  wish  to  remain  ignorant. 
The  interdictory  catalogues  of  the  Roman  hierarchy  always  pre- 
sent to  my  fancy  the  muster-rolls  of  the  two  hostile  armies  of 
Michael  and  Satan  printed  promiscuously,  or  extracted  at  hap- 
hazard, save   only  that  the   extracts    from  the    former   appear 
somewhat  the  more  numerous.     And  yet  even  in  Naples,  and 
in  Rome  itself,  whatever   difficulty   occurs  in  procuring  any  ar- 
ticle catalogued    in   these   formidable  folios,   must   arise   either 
from  the  scarcity  of  the  work  itself,  or  the  absence  of  all  inter- 
est in  it.     Assuredly  there  is  no  difficulty  in  procuring  from  the 
most  respectable  booksellers  the  vilest  provocatives  to  the  ba- 
sest  crimes,  though   intermixed  with  gross   lampoons   on    the 
heads  of  the  Church,  the  religious   orders,  and  on   religion  it- 
self.    The  stranger  is  invited  into  an  inner  room,  and  the  loath- 
some wares  presented  to   him  with  most  significant  looks   and 
gestures,  implying  the  hazard,   and  the    necessity   of  secrecy. 
A  creditable  English  bookseller  would   deem  himself  insulted, 
if  such  works  were  even   inquired    after   at  his  shop.     It  is  a 
well-known  fact,  that  with  the   mournful  exception  indeed  of 
political  provocatives,  and   the  titillations  of  vulgar  envy  provi- 


60 

ded  by  our  anonymous  critics  ;  the  loathsome  articles  are  among 
us  vended  and  oifered  for  sale  almost  exclusively  by  Foreign- 
ers. Such  are  the  purifying  effects  of  a  free  Press,  and  the 
dignified  habit  of  action  imbibed  from  the  blessed  air  of  Law 
and  Liberty,  even  by  men  who  neither  understand  the  princi- 
ple or  feel  the  sentiment  of  the  dignified  purity,  to  which  they 
yield  obeisance  from  the  instinct  of  character.  As  there  is  a 
national  guilt  which  can  be  charged  but  gently  on  each  indi- 
vidual, so  are  there  national  virtues,  which  can  as  little  be  im- 
puted to  the  individuals, — no  where,  however,  but  in  countries 
where  Liberty  is  the  presiding  influence,  the  universal  medi- 
um and  menstruum  of  all  other  excellence,  moral  and  intellec- 
tual.    Admirably   doth  the    admirable  Petrarch*  admonish  us : 

Nee  sibi  vero  quisquam  falso  persuadeat,  eos  qui  pro  liber- 
TATE  excubant,  alienum  agere  negotium  non  suum.  In  hac  una 
reposita  sibi  omnia  norint  omnes,  securitatem  mercator,  gloriam 
miles,  utilitatem  agricola.  Postremo,  in  eadem  libertate  Re- 
ligiosi  caerimonias,  otium  studiosi,  requiem  senes,  rudimenta 
disciplinarum  pueri,  nuptias  et  castitatem  puellae,  pudicitiam 
matronse,  pietatem  et  antiqui  laris  sacra  patres  familias  spem 
atque  gaudium  omnes  invenient.  Huic  uni  igitur  reliquse  ce- 
dant  curse  !  Si  banc  omittitis,  in  quanta  libet  occupatione  nihil 
agitis  :  si  huic  incumbitis,  et  nihil  agere  videmini,  cumulate  ta- 
men  et  civium  et  virorum  implevistis  officia. 

Petrarch^  Horta. 

(Translation.) — Nor  let  any  one  falsely  persuade  himself, 
that  those  who   keep  watch  and  ward   for  liberty,  are  med- 

*I  qiioto  Pfitrarcii  often  in  the  hope  of  drawing  the  attention  of  Scholars 
to  his  inestiniahie  Latin  Writings.  Lot  me  add,  in  the  wish  likewise  of  re- 
commending a  Translation  of  select  passages  from  his  Treatises  and  Letters 
to  the  London  Fnblishers,  If  I  except  tJie  Gorman  writings  and  original 
Letters  of  the  heroic  Luther,  I  do  not  remember  a  work  from  which  so  de- 
lightful and  instructive  a  volume  might  be  compiled. 

To  give  the  true  bent  to  the  al)ove  extract,  it  is  necessary  to  bear  in  mind, 
that  he  who  k(!eps  watch  and  ward  for  Freedom,  has  to  guard  against  two 
cnomips,  the  Despotism  of  the  Few  and  the  Despotism  of  the  Many — but  t;s- 
pi.'cially  in  the  present  day  against  the  Sycophants  of  the  Po})ulace. 

Idcence  thet  mean,  when  they  c;y  Liberty ! 
For  who  loves  that,  must  first  be  wise  and  good. 


61 

dling  with  things  that  do  not  concern  them,  instead  of  minding 
their  own  business.  For  all  men  should  know,  that  all  bles- 
sings are  stored  and  protected  in  this  one,  as  in  a  common  re- 
pository. Here  is  the  tradesman's  security,  the  soldier's  honor, 
the  agriculturist's  profit.  Lastly,  in  this  one  good  of  Liberty 
the  Religious  will  find  the  permission  of  their  rites  and  forms 
of  worship,  the  students  their  learned  leisure,  the  aged  their  re- 
pose, boys  the  rudiments  of  the  several  branches  of  their  edu- 
cation, maidens  their  chaste  nuptials,  matrons  their  womanly 
honor  and  the  dignity  of  their  modesty,  and  fathers  of  families 
the  dues  of  natural  affection  and  the  sacred  privileges  of  their 
ancient  home.  To  this  one  solicitude  therefore  let  all  other 
cares  yield  the  priority.  If  you  omit  this,  be  occupied  as  much 
and  sedulously  as  you  may,  you  are  doing  nothing  :  If  you  ap- 
ply your  heart  and  strength  to  this,  though  you  seem  to  be  do- 
ing nothing,  you  will,  nevertheless,  have  been  fulfilling  the  du- 
ties of  citizens  and  of  men,  yea,  in  a  measure  pressed  down 
and  running  over. 


ESSAY    XI. 


Nemo  vero  fallatur,  quasi  minora  sint  aniinoriiin  contagia  quam  corporum. 
Majora  sunt;  gravius  tedunt ;  altius  doscendunt,  serpuutquc  latontius. 

Petrarch,  de  Vit.  Solit.  L.  1.  s.  3.  c.  4. 

(Translation.) — And  let  no  man  be  deceived  as  if  the  contagions  of  the  soul 
were  less  than  those  of  the  bodJ^  They  are  yet  greater ;  they  convey 
more  direful  diseases ;  they  sink  deeper,  and  creep  on  more  unsuspectedly. 


We  have  abundant  reason  then  to  infer,  that  the  Law  of 
England  has  done  well  and  concluded  wisely  in  proceeding  on 
the  principle  so  clearly  worded  by  Milton  ;  that  a  book  should 
be  as  freely  admitted  into  the  world  as  any  other  birth  ;  and  if 
it  prove  a  monster,  who  denies  but  that  it  may  justly  be  burnt 
or  sunk  into  the  sea  ?     We  have    reason  then,  I  repeat,  to  rest 


62 

satisfied  with  our  Laws,  which  no  more  prevent  a  book  from 
coming  into  the  world  unlicensed,  lest  it  should  prove  a  libel, 
than  a  traveller  from  passing  unquestioned  through  our  turn- 
pike-gates, because  it  is  possible  he  may  be  a  highwayman. 
Innocence  is  presumed  in  both  cases.  The  publication  is  a 
part  of  the  oftence,  and  its  necessary  condition.  Words  are 
moral  acts,  and  words  deliberately  made  public  the  law  consid- 
ers in  the  same  light  as  any  other  cognizable  overt-act. 

Here  however  a  difficulty  presents  itself.     Theft,  Robbery, 
Murder,  and   the   like,   are    easily  defined :    the   degrees    and 
circumstances  likewise  of  these  and  similar  actions  are  defin- 
ite, and  constitute  specific  offences,  described  and  punishable 
each  under  its  own   name.     We  have   only  to  prove   the  fact 
and   identify    the   offender.     The   intention   too,  in   the  great 
majority  of  cases,  is  so  clearly  implied  in  the  action,  that  the 
Law  can  safely  adopt  it  as  its  universal  maxim,  that  the  proof 
of  the  malice  is  included  in  the  proof  of  the  fact :    especially 
as  the  few  occasional   exceptions   have    their  remedy  provided 
in  the  prerogative  of  pardon  entrusted  to  the  supreme  Magis- 
trate.    But  in  the  case  of  Libel,   the   degree  makes  the  kind, 
the  circumstances  constitute  the  criminality ;    and  both  degrees 
and  circumstances,  like  the  ascending  shades  of  color  or  the 
shooting  hues  of  a  dove's  neck,  die  away  into  each  other,  inca- 
pable of  definition  or  outline.     The  eye  of  the  understanding, 
indeed,  sees  the  determinate  difference  in  each  individual  case, 
but  language  is  most  often  inadequate  to  express  what  the  eye 
perceives,  much  less  can  a  general  statute  anticipate  and  pre-de- 
fine it.     Again  :    in  other  overt-acts  a  charge  disproved  leaves 
the  Defendant  either  guilty  of  a  different  fault,  or  at  best  simply 
blameless.     A  man  having  killed  a  fellow-citizen  is  acquitted  of 
murder — the   act   was   Manslaughter  only,  or  it  was  justifiable 
Homicide.     But  when  we  reverse  the  iniquitous  sentence  passed 
on  Algernon  vSidney,  during  our  perusal  of  his  work  on  Govern- 
ment ;  at  the  moment  we  deny  it  to  have  been  a  traitorous  Libel, 
our  beating  hearts  declare  it  to  have  been  a  benefaction  to  our 
country,  and  under  the  circumstances  of  those  times  the  perform- 
ance of  an  heroic  duty.     From  this  cause  therefore,  as  well  as 
from  a  Libel's  being  a  thing  made  up  of  degrees  and  circumstan- 
ces (and  these  too  discriminating  offence  from  merit  by  such  dim 
and  ambulant  boundaries)  the  intention  of  the  agent,  wherever 
it  can  be  independently  or  inclusively  ascertained,  must  be  al- 


63 

lowed  a  great  share  in  determining  the  character  of  the  action, 
unless  the  Law  is  not  only  to  be  divorced  from  moral  Justice,* 
but  to  wage  open   hostility  against   it. 

Add  too,  that  Laws  in  doubtful  points  are  to  be  interpreted 
according  to  the  design  of  the  legislator,  where  this  can  be 
certainly  inferred.  But  the  Laws  of  England,  which  owe  their 
own  present  supremacy  and  absoluteness  to  the  good  sense 
and  generous  dispositions  diffused  by  the  Press  more,  far  more, 
than  to  any  other  single  cause,  must  needs  be  presumed  fa- 
vorable to  its  general  influence.  Even  in  the  penalties  attached 
to  its  abuse,  we  must  suppose  the  Legislature  to  have  been  ac- 
tuated by  the  desire  of  preserving  its  essential  privileges.  The 
Press  is  indifferently  the  passive  instrument  of  Evil  and  of  Good  ; 
nay,  there  is  some  good  even  in  its  evil.  "Good  and  Evil," 
says  Milton,  in  the  Speech  from  which  I  have  selected  the  Mot- 
to of  the  preceding  Essay,  "in  the  field  of  this  world,  grow  up 
together  almost  inseparably  :  and  the  knowledge  of  Good  is  soin- 
tervolved  and  interwoven  with  the  knowledge  of  Evil,  and  in  so 
many  cunning  resemblances  hardly  to  be  discerned,  that  those 
confused  seeds  which  were  imposed  on  Psyche  as  an  incessant 
labor  to  cull  out  and  sort  asunder,  were  not  more  intermixed. 
As,  therefore,  the  state  of  man  now  is,  what  wisdom  can  there 
be  to  choose,  what  continence  to  forbear,  without  the  knowl- 
edge of  Evil  ?  He  that  can  apprehend  and  consider  Vice  with 
all  her  baits  and  seeming  pleasures  and  yet  abstain,  and  yet 
distinguish,  and  yet  prefer  that  which  is  truly  better,  he  is  the 
true  way-faring  Christian.  I  cannot  praise  a  fugitive  and  clois- 
tered virtue,  that  never  sallies  out  and  sees  her  adversary  : — 
that  which  is  but  a  youngling  in  the  contemplation  of  Evil,  and 
knows  not  the  utmost  that  Vice  promises  to  her  followers,  and 
rejects  it,  is  but  a  blank  Virtue,  not  a  pure. — Since,  therefore, 
the  knowledge  and  survey  of  Vice  is  in  this  world  so  necessa- 
ry to  the  constituting  of  human  Virtue,  and  the  scanning  of 
Error  to  the  confirmation  of  Truth,  how  can  we  more  safely 
and  with  less  danger  scout  into  the  regions  of  Sin  and  Falsity, 
tlian  by  reading  all  manner  of  Tractates,  and  hearing  all  man- 
ner of  reason  ?"     Again — but,  indeed  the  whole  Treatise  is  one 

*  According  to  the  old  adage:  you  are  not  hung  for  stealing  a  horse,  but 
that  horses  may  not  he  stolen.  To  what  extent  this  is  true,  we  shall  have 
occasion  to  exaniiiio  jiorcaAor. 


«4 

strain  of  moral  wisdom  and  political  prudence — "  Why  should 
we  then  affect  a  rigor  contrary  to  the  manner  of  God  and  of  Na- 
ture, by  abridging  or  scanting  those  means,  which  Books,  free- 
ly permitted,  are  both  to  the  trial  of  Virtue  and  the  exercise  of 
Truth  ?  It  would  be  better  done  to  learn,  that  the  Law  must 
needs  be  frivolous,  which  goes  to  restrain  things  uncertainly, 
and  yet  equally  working  to  Good  and  to  Evil.  And  were  I 
the  chooser,  a  dram  of  well-doing  should  be  preferred  before 
many  times  as  much  the  forcible  hindrance  of  Evil-doing.  For 
God  sure  esteems  the  growth  and  completion  of  one  virtuous 
person,  more  than  the  restraint  of  ten  vicious." 

The  evidence  of  History  is  strong  in  favor  of  the  same  prin- 
\^  ciples,  even  in  respect  of  their  expediency.  The  average  re- 
sult of  the  Press  from  Henry  VIII.  to  Charles  I.  was  such  a 
diffusion  of  religious  light  as  first  redeemed  and  afterwards 
saved  this  nation  from  the  spiritual  and  moral  death  of  Popery  ; 
and  in  the  following  period  it  is  to  the  Press  that  we  owe  the 
gradual  ascendency  of  those  wise  political  maxims,  which  cast- 
ing philosophic  truth  in  the  moulds  of  national  laws,  customs, 
and  existing  orders  of  society,  subverted  the  tyranny  without 
suspending  the  government,  and  at  length  completed  the  mild 
and  salutary  revolution  by  the  establishment  of  the  House  of 
Brunswick.  To  what  must  we  attribute  this  vast  over-balance 
of  Good  in  the  general  effects  of  the  Press,  but  to  the  over- 
balance of  virtuous  intention  in  those  who  employed  the  Press  ? 
The  Law,  therefore,  will  not  refuse  to  manifest  good  intention 
a  certain  weight  even  in  cases  of  apparent  error,  lest  it  should 
discourage  and  scare  away  those,  to  whose  efforts  we  owe  the 
comparative  infrequency  and  weakness  of  error  on  the  whole. 
The  Law  may  however,  nay,  it  must  demand,  that  the  external 
proofs  of  the  author's  honest  intentions  should  be  supported  by 
the  general  style  and  matter  of  his  work,  and  by  the  circum- 
stances, and  mode  of  its  publication.  A  passage,  which  in  a 
grave  and  regular  disquisition  would  be  blameless,  might  be- 
come highly  libellous  and  justly  punishable,  if  it  were  applied 
to  present  measures  or  persons  for  immediate  purposes,  in  a 
cheap  and  popular  tract.  I  have  seldom  felt  greater  indigna- 
tion than  at  finding  in  a  large  manufactory  a  sixpenny  pamph- 
let, containing  a  selection  of  inflamatory  paragraphs  from  the 
prose-writings  of  Milton,  without  a  hint  given  of  ihe  time,  oc- 
casion, state  of  government,  &,c.  under  which  they  were  written 


65 

not  a  hint,  that  the  Freedom,  which  we  now  enjoy,  exceeds  all 
that  Milton  dared  hope  for,  or  deemed  practicable  ;  and  that 
his  political  creed  sternly  excluded  the  populace,  and  indeed 
the  majority  of  the  population,  from  all  pretensions  to  political 
power.  If  the  manifest  bad  intention  would  constitute  this 
publication  a  seditious  Libel,  a  good  intention  equall}^  manifest 
can  not  justly  be  denied  its  share  of  influence  in  producing  a 
contrary  verdict. 

Here  then  is  the  difficulty.  From  the  very  nature  of  a  libel 
it  is  impossible  so  to  define  it,  but  that  the  most  meritorious 
works  will  be  found  included  in  the  description.  Not  from 
any  defect  or  undue  severity  in  the  particular  Statute,  but  from 
the  very  nature  of  the  offence  to  be  guarded  against,  a  work 
recommending  reform  by  the  only  rational  n  ode  of  recommend- 
ation, that  is,  by  the  detection  and  exposure  of  corruption, 
abuse,  or  incapacity,  might,  though  it  should  breathe  the  best 
and  most  unadulterated  English  feelings,  be  brought  within  the 
definition  of  libel  equally  with  the  vilest  incendiary  Brochure^ 
that  ever  aimed  at  leading  and  misleading  the  multitude.  Not 
a  paragraph  in  the  Morning  Post  during  the  peace  of  Amiens, 
(or  rather  the  experimental  truce  so  called)  though  to  the  im- 
mortal honour  of  the  then  editor,  that  newspaper  was  the  chief 
secondary  means  of  producing  the  unexampled  national  una- 
nimity, with  which  the  war  re-commenced  and  has  since  been 
continued — not  a  paragraph  warning  the  nation,  as  need  was 
and  most  imperious  duty  commanded,  of  the  perilous  designs 
and  unsleeping  ambition  of  our  neighbor,  the  mimic  and  cari- 
caturist of  Charlemagne,  but  was  a  punishable  libel.  The  sta- 
tute of  libel  is  a  vast  aviary,  which  incages  the  awakening  cock 
and  the  geese  whose  alarum  preserved  the  capitol,  no  less  than 
the  babbling  magpye  and  ominous  screech-owl.  And  yet  will 
w^e  avoid  this  seeming  injustice,  we  throw  down  all  fence  and 
bulwark  of  public  decency  and  public  opinion;  political  calum- 
ny will  soon  join  hands  with  private  slander  ;  and  every  prin- 
ciple, every  feeling,  that  binds  the  citizen  to  his  country  and 
the  spirit  to  its  Creator,  will  be  undermined — not  by  reasoning, 
for  from  that  there  is  no  danger ;  but — by  the  mere  habit  of 
hearing  them  reviled  and  scoffed  at  with  impunity.  Were  we 
to  contemplate  the  evils  of  a  rank  and  unweeded  press  only  in 
its  effects  on  the  manners  of  a  people,  and  on  the  general  tone 
of  thought  and  conversation,  the  greater  the  love,  which  we 
9 


66 

bore  to  literature  and  to  all  the  means  and  instruments  of  hu- 
man improvement,  the  greater  would  be  the  earnestness  with 
W'hich  we  should  solicit  the  interference  of  law  :  the  more 
anxiously  should  we  wisli  for  some  Ithureal  spear,  that  might 
remove  from  the  ear  of  the  public,  and  expose  in  their  own 
fiendish  shape  those  reptiles,  which  inspiring  venom  and  for- 
ging illusions  as  they  list^ 

thence  raise, 

At  least  distempered  discontented  thoughts, 

Vain  hopes,  vain  aims,  inordinate  desires. 

Paradise  Lost. 


ESSAY    XIT. 


Qitomodo  aiitein  idfidui'um  sit,  ne  quis  hicredibih  arbUrdur,  ostendam.  In  pri- 
mis  midtiplicabitur  regnum,  et  summa  rerum  potestas  per  plurimos  dissipata  et 
concisa  minudur.  Tunc  discordice  civiles  serentur,  nee  uUa  requies  bellis  exiti- 
(dibuserit,  dum  excrcilibus  iii  immeitsum  coadis,rege^  disperdent omnia,  etcom- 
minuent :  donee  adversus  eos  dux  poteidissimns  a  plebe  orieiur,  et  assnmetur  in 
societatcm  a  ccderis,  et  princeps  omnium  constituetur.  Hie  insustentabili  domi- 
natione  vexabit  orbtm,  divina  et  humana  miscebit :  infanda  dietii  et  execrabilia 
molietur :  nova  eonsilia  in  peetore  »uo  volidabit,  ni  proprium  sibi  constituat  im- 
pcrium. :  leges  comjnutabit,  et  suas  sanciet,  contaminabit,  diripiet,  spcliahii,  occi- 
det.  Denique  immutatis  nomiinbus,  et  impaii  sede  translata,  eonfusio  ac  per- 
turbatio  humfini  genens  eonsequetur.  Turn  vere  detestabile,  et  atque  abominan- 
dwn  tempus  existet,  quo  nidli  hominum  sit  vita  jueunda. 

Lactantius  de  Vita  Beatd,  Lib.  vii.  c.  16. 

But  lest  this  should  be  deemed  incrcdihle,  I  shew  the  manner  in  which  it 
is  to  take  place.  Fii-st,  there  will  he  a  multiplication  of  independent  sove- 
reignties ;  and  the  supreme  magistracy  of  the  Empire,  scattered  and  cut  up  in- 
to fragments,  will  be  enfeebled  in  the  exercise  of  power  by  law  and  authority. 
Then  will  be  sowed  the  seeds  of  civil  discords,  nor  will  there  be  any  rest  or 
pause  to  wasteful  and  ruinous  wars,  while  the  soldiery  kept  together  in  im- 
mense standing  armies,  the  Kings  will  crash  and  lay  waste  at  their  will ; — un- 
til at  length  there  will  rise  up  against  them  a  most  puissant  military  chieftain 
of  low  birth,  who  will  have  acceded  to  him  a  fellowship  with  the  other  Sove- 
reigns of  the  earth,  and  will  finally  be  constituted  the  head  of  all.  This-man 
will  hanass  the  civilized  world  with  an  insu])po)table  despotism,  he  will  con- 


67 

found  and  commix  all  things  spiritual  and  temporal.  He  will  form  plans  and 
preparations  of  the  most  execrable  and  sacrilegious  nature.  He  will  be  for- 
ever restlessly  turning  over  new  schemes  in  his  imagination,  in  order  that  he 
may  fix  the  imperial  power  over  all  in  his  own  name  and  possessions.  He 
will  change  the  former  laws,  he  will  sanction  a  code  of  his  own,  he  will 
contaminate,  pillage,  lay  waste  and  massacre.  At  length,  when  he  has  suc- 
ceeded in  the  change  of  names  and  titles,  and  in  the  transfer  of  the  seat  of 
Empire,  there  will  follow  a  confusion  and  perturbation  of  the  human  race ; 
then  will  there  be  for  a  while  an  sera  of  horror  and  abomination,  during  which 
no  man  will  enjoy  Iiis  hfe  in  quietness. 


I  interpose  this  Essay  as  an  historical  comment  on  the  words 
"  mimic  and  caricaturist  of  Charlemagne,"  as  applied  to  the 
despot,  whom  since  the  time  that  the  words  were  first  printed, 
we  have,  thank  heaven  !  succeeded  in  incaging.  The  Motto 
contains  the  most  striking  instance  of  an  uninspired  prophecy 
fulfilled  even  in  its  minutiae,  that  I  recollect  ever  to  have  met 
with  :  and  it  is  hoped,  that  as  a  curiosity  it  will  reconcile  my 
readers  to  its  unusual  length.  But  though  my  chief  motive  was 
that  of  relieving  (by  the  variety  of  an  historical  parallel)  the 
series  of  argument  on  this  most  important  of  all  subjects,  the 
communicability  of  truth,  yet  the  Essay  is  far  from  being  a  di- 
gression. Having  in  the  preceding  number  given  utterance 
to  quicquid  in  rem  tarn  malejicam  indignatio  dolorque  dictarent, 
concerning  the  mischiefs  of  a  lawless  Press,  I  held  it  an  act  of 
justice  to  give  a  portrait  no  less  lively  of  the  excess  to  which 
the  remorseless  ambition  of  a  government  might  accumulate  its 
oppressions  in  the  one  instance  before  the  discovery  of  Print- 
ing, and  in  the  other  during  the   suppression  of  its  freedom. 

I  have  translated  the  following  from  a  voluminous  German 
work,  Michael  Ignuz  Schmidt's  History  of  the  Germans  ;  in 
which  this  Extract  forms  the  conclusion  of  the  second  chapter 
of  the  third  book,  from  Charles  the  Great  to  Conrade  the  First. 
The  late  Tyrant's  close  imitation  of  Charlemagne  was  suffi- 
ciently evidenced  by  his  assumption  of  the  Iron  Crown  of  Italy  ; 
by  his  imperial  coronation  with  the  presence  and  authority  of 
the  Holy  Father;  by  his  imperial  robe  embroidered  with  bees 
in  order  to  mark  him  as  a  successor  of  Pepin  ;  and  even  by  his 
ostentatious  revocation  of  Charlemagne's  grants  to  the  Bishop 
of  Rome.     But  that  the  differences   might   be   felt  likewise,  I 


68 

prefaced  the  translation  here  re-printed  with  the  few  following 
obseryations. 

Let  it  be  remembered  then,  that  Charlemagne,  for  the  great- 
er   part,  created  for    himself  the   means    of  which   he  availed 
himself;  that  his  very  education   was   his  own  work,  and   that 
unlike  Peter  the  Great,  he  could  find  no   assistants   out   of  his 
own  realm ;  that  the  unconquerable   courage    and  heroic  dispo- 
sitions of  the  nations  he   conquered,   supplied   a  proof  positive 
of  real  superiority,  indeed  the  sole  positive  proof  of  intellectual 
power  in  a  warrior :  for  how  can  we  measure  force  but  by  the 
resistance  of  it  ?    But  all  was  prepared  for  Buonaparte  ;  Europe 
weakened  in  the  very  heart   of  all  human  strength,  namely,  in 
moral  and  religious  principle,  and  at  the  same  time  accidentally 
destitute  of  any  one   great  or  commanding  mind  :   the   French 
people,  on  the  other  hand,  still  restless  from  revolutionary  fana- 
ticism ;  their  civic  enthusiasm  already  passed  into  military  pas- 
sion and  the  ambition  of  conquest ;  and  alike  by  disgust,  terror, 
and  characteristic  unfitness  for   freedom,  ripe  for  the  reception 
of  a  despotism.     Add  too,  that  the  main  obstacles  to  an  unlimi- 
ted system  of  conquest,  and  the  pursuit  of  universal   monarchy 
had  been  cleared  away  for  him  by  his  pioneers   the   Jacobins, 
viz.  the  influence  of  the  great   land-holders,   of  the  privileged 
and  of  the  commercial    classes.     Even  the    naval   successes   of 
Great  Britain,  by  destroying  the   trade,   rendering  useless  the 
colonies,  and  almost  annihilating  the  navy  of  France,    were  in 
some   respects  subservient  to  his  designs  by  concentrating  the 
powers  of  the  French  empire  in  its  armies,  and  supplying  them 
out  of  the  wrecks  of  all  other  employments,   save  that   of  agri- 
culture.    France   had  already  approximated   to  the  formidable 
state  so  prophetically  described  by  Sir  James  Stuart,  in  his  Po- 
litical Economy,  in  which  the  population  should  consist  chiefly 
of  soldiers  and  peasantry  :  at  least   the    interests   of  no  other 
classes   were   regarded.     The  great  merit   of  Buonaparte  has 
been  that  of  a  skillful  steersman,  who  with  his  boat  in  the  most 
violent   storm  still  keeps  himself  on  the  summit  of  the  waves, 
which   not  he,  but  the   winds  had  raised.     I  will  now  proceed 
to  my  translation. 

That  Charles  was  an  hero,  his  exploits  bear  evidence.  The 
subjugation  of  the  Lombards,  protected  as  they  were  by  the 
Alps,  by  fortresses  and  fortified  towns,  by  numerous  armies,  and 
by  a  great  name  ;  of  the  Saxons,  secured  by  their  savage  reso- 


69 

lutenees,  by  an  untameable  love  of  freedom,  by  their  desart  plains 
and  enormous  foi-ests,  and  by  their  own  poverty  ;  the  humbling 
of  the  Dukes  of  Bavaria,  Aquitania,  Bretagne,  and  Gascony  ; 
proud  of  their  ancestry  as  well  as  of  their  ample  domains  ;  the 
almost  entire  extirpation  of  the  Avars,  so  long  the  terror  of  Eu- 
rope ;  are  assuredly  works  which  demand  a  courage  and  a 
firmness  of  mind  such  as  Charles  only  possessed. 

How  great  his  reputation  was,  and  this  too  beyond  the 
limits  of  Europe,  is  proved  by  the  embassies  sent  to  him  out  of 
Persia,  Palestine,  Mauritania,  and  even  from  the  Caliphs  of 
Bagdad.  If  at  the  present  day  an  embassy  from  the  Black  or 
Caspian  Sea  comes  to  a  prince  on  the  Baltic,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  since  such  are  now  the  political  relations  of  the 
four  quarters  of  the  world,  that  a  blow  which  is  given  to  any 
one  of  them  is  felt  more  or  less  by  all  the  others.  Whereas  in 
the  times  of  Charlemagne,  the  inhabitants  in  one  of  the  known 
parts  of  the  world  scarcely  knew  what  w'as  going  on  in  the  rest. 
Nothing  but  the  extraordinary,  all-piercing  report  of  Charles's 
exploits  could  bring  this  to  pass.  His  greatness,  which  set  the 
world  in  astonishment,  was  likewise,  without  doubt,  that  which 
begot  in  the  Pope  and  the  Romans  the  first  idea  of  the  re-es- 
tablishment of  their  empire. 

Is  it  true,  that  a  number  of  things  united  to  make  Charles  a 
great  man — favorable  circumstances  of  time,  a  nation  already 
disciplined  to  warlike  habits,  a  long  life,  and  the  consequent 
acquisition  of  experience,  such  as  no  one  possessed  in  his  whole 
realm.  Still,  hovv'ever,  the  principal  means  of  his  greatness 
Charles  found  in  himself.  His  great  mind  was  capable  of  ex- 
tending its  attention  to  the  greatest  multiplicity  of  alfairs.  In 
the  middle  of  Saxony  he  thought  on  Italy  and  Spain,  and  at 
Rome  he  made  provisions  for  Saxony,  Bavaria,  and  Pannonia. 
He  gave  audience  to  the  Ambassadors  of  the  Greek  emperor 
and  other  potentates,  and  himself  audited  the  accounts  of  his 
own  farms,  where  every  thing  was  entered  even  to  the  number 
of  the  eggs.  Busy  as  his  mind  was,  his  body  was  not  less  in 
one  continued  state  of  motion.  Charles  would  see  into  every 
thing  himself,  and  do  every  thing  himself,  as  far  as  his  powers 
extended :  and  even  this  it  was  too,  whieli  gave  to  his  under- 
takings such  a  force  and  energy. 

But  with  all  this  the  government  of  Charles  was  the  gov- 
ernment of  a  conqueror,   that  is  splendid   abroad  and   fearfully 


70 

oppressive  at  home.  What  a  grievance  must  it  not  have  been 
for  the  people  that  Charles  for  forty  years  together  dragged 
them  now  to  the  Elbe,  then  to  the  Ebro,  after  this  to  the  Po,  and 
from  thence  back  again  to  the  Elbe,  and  this  not  to  check  an 
invading  enemy,  but  to  make  conquests  which  little  profited 
the  French  nation  !  Tliis  must  prove  too  much,  at  length,  for 
a  hired  soldier :  how  much  more  for  conscripts,  who  did  not 
live  only  to  fight,  but  who  were  fathers  of  families,  citizens, 
and  proprietors?  But  above  all,  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that 
a  nation  like  the  French,  should  suffer  themselves  to  be  used 
as  Charles  used  them.  But  the  people  no  longer  possessed 
any  considerable  share  of  influence.  All  depended  on  the 
great  chieftains,  who  gave  their  willing  suffiage  for  endless 
wars,  by  which  they  were  always  sure  to  win.  They  found  the 
best  opportunity,  under  such  circumstances,  to  make  themselves 
great  and  mighty  at  the  expense  of  the  freemen  resident  with- 
in the  circle  of  their  baronial  courts ;  and  when  conquests 
were  made,  it  was  far  more  for  their  advantage  than  that  of  the 
monarchy.  In  the  conquered  provinces  there  was  a  necessity, 
for  dukes,  vassal  kings,  and  different  high  offices  :  all  this  fell 
to  their  share. 

I  would  not  say  this  if  we  did  not  possess  incontrovertible 
original  documents  of  those  times,  which  prove  clearly  to  us 
that  Charles's  government  was  an  unhappy  one  for  the  people, 
and  that  this  great  man,  by  his  actions,  labored  to  the  direct 
subversion  of  his  first  principles.  It  was  his  first  pretext  to  es- 
tablish a  greater  equality  among  the  members  of  his  vast  com- 
munity, and  to  make  all  free  and  equalsub  jects  under  a  common 
sovereign.  And  from  the  necessity  occasioned  by  continual 
war,  the  exact  contrary  took  place.  Nothing  gives  us  a  better 
notion  of  the  interior  state  of  the  French  Monarchy,  than  the 
third  capitular  of  the  year  811.  [compare  with  this  the  four 
or  five  quarto  vols,  of  the  present  French  Conscript  Code.) 
All  is  full  of  complaint ;  the  Bishops  and  Earls  clamouring 
against  the  freeholders,  and  these  in  their  turn  against  the 
Bishoj)S  and  Earls.  And  in  truth  the  freehoUlers  had  no  small 
reason  to  be  discontented  ami  to  resist,  as  far  as  they  dared, 
even  the  imperial  levies.  A  dependant  must  be  content  to  fol- 
low his  lord  without  further  questioning  :  for  he  was  paid  for 
it.  But  a  free  citizen,  who  lived  wholly  on  his  own  property, 
might  reasonably  object  to  suffer  himself  to  be   dragged  about 


71 

in  all  quarters  of  the  world,  at  the  fancies  of  his  lord :  espe- 
cially as  there  was  so  much  injustice  intermixed.  Those  who 
gave  up  their  properties  entirely,  or  in  part,  of  their  own  ac- 
cord, were  left  undisturbed  at  home,  while  those,  who  refused 
to  do  this,  were  forced  so  often  into  service,  that  at  length,  be- 
coming impoverished,  they  were  compelled  by  want  to  give  up, 
or  dispose  of  their  free  tenures  to  the  Bishops  or  Earls.  (It 
would  require  no  great  ingenuity  to  discover  parallels^  or  at 
leastj  equivalent  hardships  to  these^  in  the  treatment  of^  and 
regulations  concerning  the  reluctant  conscripts.) 

It  almost  surpasses  belief  to  what  a  height,  at  length,  the 
aversion  to  war  rose  in  the  French  nation,  from  the  multitude 
of  the  campaigns  and  the  grievances  connected  with  them. 
The  national  vanity  was  now  satiated  by  the  frequences  of  vic- 
tories ;  and  the  plunder  which  fell  to  the  lot  of  individuals, 
made  but  a  poor  compensation  for  the  losses  and  burthens  sus- 
tained by  their  families  at  home.  Some,  in  order  to  become 
exempt  from  military  service,  sought  for  menial  employments^ 
in  the  establishments  of  the  Bishops,  Abbots,  Abbesses,  and 
Earls.  Others  made  over  their  free  property  to  become  te- 
nants at  will  of  such  Lords,  as  from  their  age  or  other  circum- 
stances, they  thought  would  be  called  to  no  further  military 
services.  Others,  even  privately  took  away  the  life  of  their 
mothers,  aunts,  or  other  of  their  relatives,  in  order  that  no 
family  residents  might  remain  through  whom  their  names  might 
be  known,  and  themselves  traced ;  others  voluntarily  made 
slaves  of  themselves,  in  order  thus  to  render  themselves  inca- 
pable of  the  military  rank. 

When  this  Extract  was  first  published,  namely,  September  7, 
1809,  I  prefixed  the  following  sentence.  "This  passage  con- 
tains so  much  matter  for  jjolitical  anticipation  and  ivell-ground- 
ed  hope.,  that  I  feel  no  apprehension  of  the  Reader's  being  dis- 
satisfied with  its  length."  I  trust,  that  I  may  derive  the  same 
confidence  from  his  genial  exultation,  as  a  Christian  ;  and  from 
his  honest  ])ride  as  a  Briton  ;  in  the  retrospect  of  its  comple- 
tion. In  this  belief  I  venture  to  conclude  the  Essay  with  the 
following  Extract  from  a  "  Comparison  of  the  French  Republic, 
under  Buonaparte,  with  the  Roman  Empire  under  the  first 
Cajsars,"  published  by  me  in  the  Morning  Post,  Tuesday, 
21    Sept.   1802. 

If  then  there  is  no  counterpoise   of  dissimilar  circumstances, 


73 

the  prospect  is  gloomy  indeed.  The  commencement  of  the 
public  slavery  in  Rome  was  in  the  most  splendid  sera  of  human 
genius.  Any  unusually  flourishing  period  of  the  arts  and  sci- 
ences in  any  country,  is,  even  to  this  day,  called  the  Augustan 
age  of  that  country.  The  Roman  poets,  the  Roman  historians, 
the  Roman  orators,  rivalled  those  of  Greece  ;  in  military  tac- 
tics, in  machinery,  in  all  the  conveniences  of  private  life,  the 
Romans  greatly  surpassed  the  Greeks.  With  few  exceptions, 
all  the  emperors,  even  the  worst  of  them,  were,  like  Buona- 
parte,* the  liberal  encouragers  of  all  great  public  works,  and 
of  every  species  of  public  merit  not  connected  with  the  asser- 
tion of  political  freedom. 

O  Juvcnes,  circumspicit  ct  agitat  vos, 

Materiamque  sibi  Diicis  indulgeutia  qurerit. 

It  is  even  so,  at  this  present  moment,  in  France.  Yet,  both 
in  France  and  in  Rome,  we  havepearned,  that  the  most  abject 
dispositions  to  slavery  rapidly  trod  on  the  heels  of  the  most 
outrageous  fanaticism  for  an  almost  anarchical  liberty.  Ruere 
in  servitium  patres  et popuhim.  Peace  and  the  coadunation  of 
all  the  civilized  provinces  of  the  earth  were  the  grand  and  plau- 
sible pretexts  of  Roman  despotism  :  the  degeneracy  of  the  hu- 
man species  itself,  in  all  the  nations  so  blended,  was  the  melan- 
choly eff'ect.     To-morrow,  therefore,  we  shall  endeavour  to  de- 


*  Imitators  succeed  better  in  copying  the  vices  than  the  excellences  or  their 
archetypes.  Where  shall  we  find  in  the  First  Consul  of  France  a  counter- 
])art  to  tiie  generous  and  dreadlcss  clemency  of  the  first  Cssar?  Acerbe  lo- 
quentilnis  satis  habuit  pro  concione  denunciare,  ne  persevarent.  Aulique 
Csecinte  criminosissimo  libro,  et  Pitholai  carminiljus  maledicentissimis  lacera- 
tam  existimationcm  suam  civili  animo  tulit. 

It  deserves  translation,  for  our  English  rradf^rs.  "  If  any  spoke  bitterly 
against  him,  he  held  it  sufiicient  to  conqtlain  of  it  publicly,  to  prevent  them 
from  persevering  in  the  us(^  of  such  language.  His  character  had  been  man- 
gled in  a  most  libellous  work  of  Aulus  C<ecina,  and  he  had  been  grossly  lam- 
pooned in  some  verses  by  Pitholaus;  but  he  boie  both  with  the  temper  of  a 
good  citizen." 

For  this  part  of  the  First  Consul's  character,  if  common  report  speaks  the 
truth,  we  must  seek  a  pandlel  in  the  dispositions  of  the  third  Caesar,  who 
dreaded  the  pen  of  a  paragraph  writer,  hintiuo-  aught  against  his  morals  and 
measures,  with  as  great  anxiety,  and  with  as  vindictive  feelings,  as  if  it  had  been 
the  dagger  of  an  assassin  lifted  uf)  against  his  life.  From  the  third  Ctesar,  too, 
he  adopted  the  abrogation  of  all  poj)ular  elections. 


7»  \ 

tect  all  those  points  and  circumstances  of  dissimilarity,  which, 
though  they  cannot  impeach   the  rectitude  of  the  parallel,  for 
the  present,  may  yet  render  it  probable,  that  as  the  same  Con- 
stitution of  Government   has  been   built  up  in   France  with  in- 
comparably greater   rapidity,  so  it  may  have   an  incomparably 
shorter  duration.     We  are  not  conscious  of  any  feelings  of  bit- 
terness towards  the    First  Consul ;  or,  if  any,  only  that  venial 
prejudice,  which  naturally  results  from  the  having  hoped  proud- 
ly of  any  individual,  and  the  having  been  miserably  disappoint- 
ed.    But  we  will  not  voluntarily  cease  to  think  freely  and  speak 
openly.     We  owe  grateful  hearts,  and  uplifted  hands  of  thanks- 
giving to  the  Divine  Providence,  that  there  is  yet  one  Europe- 
an country  ( and  that  country  our  own )  in  which  the  actions  of 
public  men  may  be  boldly  analyzed,   and  the  result   publicly 
stated.     And  let  the  Chief  Consul,  who  professes  in  all  things 
to   follow   his   FATE,  learn   to  submit   to  it  if  he  finds  that  it  is 
still  his   FATE   to  struggle  with  the  spirit  of  English  freedom, 
and  the  virtues  which  are  the  offspring  of  that  spirit !     If  he 
finds,  that  the  Genius  of  Great  Britain,  which  blew  up  his 
Egyptian  navy  into  the  air,  and  blighted  his  Syrian  laurels,  still 
follows  him  with  a  calm  and  dreadful  eye  ;  and  in  peace,  equal- 
ly as  in  war,  still  watches   for  that  liberty,  in  which   alone  the 
Genius  of  our   Isle   lives,   and   moves,   and  has  his  being;  and 
which  being  lost,  all  our  commercial  and  naval  greatness  would 
instantly  languish,  like  a  flower,  the   root  of  which   had  been 
silently  eat  away  by  a  worm ;  and  without  which,  in  any  coun- 
try, the  public   festivals,  and  pompous  merriments  of  a  nation 
present  no  other  spectacle  to  the  eye  of  Reason,  than  a  mob  of 
maniacs  dancing  in  their  fetters. 


10 


ESSAY    XIII. 


Must  there  be  still  some  discord  mixt  among 
The  harmony  of  men,  whose  mood  accords 
Best  with  contention  tun'd  to  notes  of  wrong  ? 
That  when  War  fails,  Peace  must  make  war  with  words, 
Witli  words  unto  destruction  arm'd  more  strong 
Than  ever  were  our  foreign  Foemans'  swords: 
Making  as  deep,  tiio'  not  yet  hleeding  wounds  ? 
What  War  left  scarless,  Calunmy  confounds. 

Truth  lies  entrapp'd  wlicre  Cunning  finds  no  har: 
Since  no  proportion  can  tliere  he  hetwixt 
Our  actions  which  in  endless  motions  are, 
And  ordinances  which  are  always  fixt. 
Ten  thousand  Laws  more  cannot  reach  so  far, 
But  Malice  goes  heyond,  or  lives  conmiixt 
So  close  with  Goodness,  that  it  ever  will 
Corruj)t,  disguise,  or  counterfeit  it  still. 

And  therefore  woidd  our  glorious  Alfred,  who 

Join'd  with  the  King's  the  good  man's  Majesty, 

Not  leave  Law's  lahyrinth  without  a  clue — 

Gave  to  dec])  Skill  its  just  authority, — 
*********** 

But  the  lost  Judgment  (this  his  .Tuiy's  plaii) 
licft  to  the  natural  sense  of  Work-day  IVJan. 

Adapted  from  an  elder  Poet. 


We  recur  to  the  dilemma  stated  in  our  eighth  number.  How 
shall  we  solve  this  problem  ?  Its  solution  is  to  be  found  in  that 
spirit  which,  like  the  universal  menstruum  sought  for  by  the  old 
alchemists,  can  blend  and  harmonize  the  most  discordant  ele- 
ments— it  is  found  to  be  in  tiie  spirit  of  a  rational  Freedom  dif- 
fused and  become  national,  in  the  consequent  influence  and 
control  of  public  opinion,  and  in  its  most   precious   organ,   the 


'75 

jury.  It  is  to  be  found,  wherever  Juries  are  sufficiently  en- 
lightened to  perceive  the  difference,  and  to  comprehend  the 
origin  and  necessity  of  the  difference,  between  libels  and  other 
criminal  overt-acts,  and  are  sufficiently  independent  to  act  upon 
the  conviction,  that  in  a  charge  of  libel,  the  degree,  the  circum- 
stances, and  intention,  constitute  (not  merely  modify^)  the  of- 
fence, give  it  its  Being,  and  determine  its  legal  name.  The 
words  '■'■maliciously  and  advisedly,"  must  here  have  a  force  of 
their  own  and  a  proof  of  their  own.  They  will  consequently 
consider  the  written  law  as  a  blank  powei"  provided  for  the  pun- 
ishment of  the  ojfeader,  not  as  a  light  by  which  they  are  to  deter- 
mine and  discriminate  the  offence.  The  understanding  and  con- 
science of  the  Jury  are  the  Judges,  in  toto  :  the  statute  a  blank 
conge  d^elire.  The  Statute  is  the  Clay  and  those  the  Potter's 
wheel.  Shame  fall  on  that  Man,  who  shall  labor  to  confound 
what  reason  and  nature  have  put  asunder,  and  who  at  once,  as  far 
as  in  him  lies,  would  render  the  Press  ineffectual  and  the  Law 
odious ;  who  would  lock  up  the  main  river,  the  Thames  of  our 
intellectual  commerce  ;  would  throw  a  bar  across  the  stream,  that 
that  must  render  its  navigation  dangerous  or  partial,  using  as  his 
materials  the  very  banks,  that  were  intended  to  deepen  its  chan- 
nel and  guard  against  its  inundations  !  Shame  fall  on  him,  and  a 
a  participation  of  the  infamy  of  those,  who  misled  an  English 
Jury  to  the  murder  of  Algernon  Sidney  ! 

But  though  the  virtuous  intention  of  the  writer  must  be  al- 
lowed a  certain  influence  in  facilitating  his  acquittal,  the  degree 
of  his  moral  guilt  is  not  the  true  index  or  mete-wand  of  his 
condemnation.  For  Juries  do  not  sit  in  a  Court  of  Conscience, 
but  of  Law ;  they  are  not  the  representatives  of  religion,  but 
the  guardians  of  external  tranquillity.  The  leading  principle, 
the  Pole  Star,  of  the  judgment  in  its  decision  concerning  the 
libellous  nature  of  a  published  writing,  is  its  more  or  less  re- 
mote connection  with  after  overt-acts,  as  the  cause  or  occasion 
of  the  same.  Thus  the  publication  of  actual  facts  may  be,  and 
most  often  will  be,  criminal  and  libellous,  when  directed  against 
private  characters :  not  only  because  the  charge  will  reach  the 
minds  of  many  who  cannot  be  competent  judges  of  the  truth 
or  falsehood  of  facts  to  which  themselves  were  not  witnesses, 
against  a  man  whom  they  do  not  know,  or  at  best  know  imper- 
fectly ;  but  because  such  a  publication  is  of  itself  a  very  serious 
overt-act,  by  which  the  author  without  authority  and  without  tri- 


al,  has  inflicted  punishment  on  a  fellow  subject,  himself  being 
witness  and  jury,  judge  and  executioner.  Of  such  publications 
there  can  be  no  legal  justification,  though  the  wrong  may  be 
palliated  by  the  circumstance  that  the  injurious  charges  are  not 
only  true  but  wholly  out  of  the  reach  of  the  law.  But  in  libels 
on  the  government  there  are  two  things  to  be  balanced  against 
each  other :  first,  the  incomparably  greater  mischief  of  the 
overt-acts,  supposing  them  actually  occasioned  by  the  libel — 
(as  for  instance,  the  subversion  of  government  and  property, 
if  the  principles  taught  by  Thomas  Paine  had  been  realized,  or 
if  even  an  attempt  had  been  made  to  realize  them,  by  the  ma- 
ny thousands  of  his  readers  ; )  and  second,  the  very  great  im- 
probabilit}^  that  such  effects  will  be  produced  by  such  writings. 
Government  concerns  all  generally,  and  no  one  in  particular. 
The  facts  are  commonly  as  well  known  to  the  readers,  as  to  the 
writer  :  and  falsehood  therefore  easily  detected.  It  is  proved, 
likewise,  by  experience,  that  the  frequency  of  open  political 
discussion,  with  all  its  blameable  indiscretion,  indisposes  a  na- 
tion to  overt-acts  of  practical  sedition  or  conspiracy.  They 
talk  ill,  said  Charles  the  Fifth,  of  his  Belgian  Provinces,  but 
they  suffer  so  much  the  better  for  it.  His  successor  thought 
differently:  he  determined  to  be  master  of  their  words  and 
opinions,  as  well  as  of  their  actions,  and  in  consequence  lost 
one  half  of  those  provinces,  and  retained  the  other  half  at  an 
expense  of  strength  and  treasure  greater  than  the  original  worth 
of  the  whole.  An  enlightened  Jury,  therefore,  will  require 
proofs  of  some  more  than  ordinary  malignity  of  intention,  as 
furnished  by  the  style,  price,  mode  of  circulation,  and  so  forth; 
or  of  punishable  indiscretion  arising  out  of  the  state  of  the 
times,  as  of  dearth,  for  instance,  or  of  whatever  other  calamity 
is  likely  to  render  the  lower  classes  turbulent  and  apt  to  be  al- 
ienated from  the  government  of  their  country.  For  the  absence 
of  a  right  disposition  of  mind  must  be  considered  both  in  law 
and  in  morals,  as  nearly  equivalent  to  the  presence  of  a  wrong 
disposition.  Under  such  circumstances  the  legal  paradox,  that 
a  libel  may  be  the  more  a  libel  for  being  true,  becomes  strictly 
just,  and  as  such  ought  to  be  acted  upon. 

Concerning  the  rigiit  of  punishing  by  law  the  authors  of  he- 
retical or  deistical  writings,  I  reserve  my  remarks  for  a  future 
Essay,  in  which  I  hope  to  state  the  grounds  and  limits  of  tole- 
ration more  accurately  than  they  seem  to  me  to  have  been  liith-r 


75 

eito  traced.  There  is  one  maxim,  however,  which  T  am 
tempted  to  seize  as  it  passes  across  me.  If  I  may  trust  my 
own  memory,  it  is  indeed  a  very  old  truth :  and  yet  if  the  fash- 
ion of  acting  in  apparent  ignorance  thereof  be  any  presumption 
of  its  novelty,  it  ought  to  be  new,  or  at  least  have  become  so 
by  courtesy  of  oblivion.  It  is  this  :  that  as  far  as  human  prac- 
tice can  realize  the  sharp  limits  and  exclusive  ■proprieties  of 
Science,  Law  and  Religion  should  be  kept  distinct.  There 
IS,  strictly  speaking,  no  proper  opposition  but  between  the 
TWO  polar  forces  of  one  and  the  same  power.*  If  I  say 
then,  that  Law  and  Religion  are  natural  opposites^  and  that  the 
latter  is  the  requisite  counterpoise  of  the  former,  let  it  not  be 
interpreted,  as  if  I  had  declared  them  to  be  contraries.  The 
Law  has  rightfully  invested  the  Creditor  with  the  power  of 
arresting  and  imprisoning  an  insolvent  Debtor,  the  Farmer  Avith 
the  Power  of  transporting,  mediately  at  least,  the  Pillagers  of 
his  Hedges  and  Copses  ;  but  the  Law  does  not  compel  him  to 
exercise  that  power,  while  it  will  often  happen,  that  Religion 
commands  him  to  forego  it.  Nay,  so  well  was  this  understood 
by  our  Grandfathers,  that  a  man  who  squares  his  conscience 
by  the  Law  was  a  common  paraphrase  or  synonyme  of  a 
wretch  without  any  conscience  at  all.  We  have  all  of  us 
learnt  from  History,  that  there  was  a  long  and  dark  period, 
during  which  the  Powers  and  the  Aims  of  Law  were  usurped 


*  Every  Power  in  Nature  and  in  Spirit  must  evolve  an  opposite,  as  the  sole 
meajts  and  condition  of  its  manifestation:  and  all  opposition  is  a  tendency 
TO  Re-union.  This  is  the  universal  Law  of  Polarity  or  essential  Dualism, 
first  ])ronnilgate(l  by  Heraclitus,  2000  years  afterwards  re-publishecl,  and  made 
tlie  foundation  l)oth  of  Logic,  of  Physics,  and  of  IMetaphysics  by  Giordano 
Bruno.  Tlie  Principle  may  be  thus  expressed.  The  Identity  of  Thesis  and 
Antithesis  is  the  substance  of  all  Being ;  their  Opposition  the  condition  of  all 
Existence,  or  Being  manifested;  and  every  T/ii/j^  or  Pha^nomenon  is  the  Ex- 
ponent of  a  Synthesis  iis  long  as  the  o])posite  energies  are  retained  in  that 
Synthesis.  Thus  Water  is  neither  Oxygen  nor  Hydrogen,  nor  yet  is  it  a 
commixture  of  Ijoth ;  but  the  Synthesis  or  ludifFcrcnce  of  the  two:  and  as 
long  as  the  copula  endures,  by  wliich  it  becomes  Water,  or  rather  which 
alone  is  Water,  it  is  not  less  a  simple  Body  than  either  of  the  imaginary  Ele- 
ments, impro[)erly  called  its  Ingredients  or  Components.  It  is  the  object  of 
the  mechanical  atomistic  Psilosophy  to  -confound  Synthesis  with  synarttsis, 
or  rather  with  mere  juxta-position  of  Corpuscles  separated  by  invisible  In- 
tcrsjiaccs.  I  find  it  difficult  to  determine,  whether  this  theory  contradicts 
the  Reason  or  the  Senses  most:  for  it  is  alike  inconceivable  and  unimaginable. 


78 

in  the  name  of  Religion  by  the  Clergy  and  the  Courts  Spiritu- 
al :  and  we  all  know  the  result.  Law  and  Religion  thus  in- 
terpenetrating neutralized  each  other ;  and  the  baleful  product, 
or  tertium  Aliquid,  of  this  union  retarded  the  civilization  of 
Europe  for  Centuries.  Law  splintered  into  the  minutiae  of  Re- 
ligion, whose  awful  function  and  prerogative  it  is  to  take  ac- 
count of  every  ^Hdle  ivord,^''  became  a  busy  and  inquisitorial 
tyranny  :  and  Religion  substituting  legal  terrors  for  the  eno- 
bling  influences  of  Conscience  remained  Religion  in  name 
only.  The  present  age  appears  to  me  approaching  fast  to 
a  similar  usurpation  of  the  functions  of  Religion  by  Law :  and 
if  it  were  required,  I  should  not  want  strong  presumptive 
proofs  in  favor  of  this  opinion,  whether  I  sought  for  them  in 
the  Charges  from  the  Bench  concerning  Wrongs,  to  which  Re- 
ligion denounce  the  fearful  penalties  of  Guilt,  but  for  which 
the  Law  of  the  Land  assigns  Damages  only  :  or  in  sundry  sta- 
tutes, and  (all  praise  to  the  late  Mr.  Wyndham,  Romanorum 
ultimo)  in  a  still  greater  number  of  attempts  towards  new  sta- 
tutes, the  authors  of  which  displayed  the  most  pitiable  igno- 
rance, not  merely  of  the  distinction  between  perfected  and  im- 
perfected  Obligations  but  even  of  that  still  more  sacred  dis- 
tinction between  Things  and  Persons.  What  the  Son  of  Si- 
rach  advises  concerning  the  Soul,  everj'^  Senator  should  apply 
to  his  legislative  capacity — Reverence  it  in  meekness,  know- 
ing how  feeble  and  how  mighty  a  Thing  it  is ! 

From  this  hint  concerning  Toleration,  we  may  pass  by  an 
easy  transitition  to  the,  perhaps,  still  more  interesting  subject 
of  Tolerance.  And  here  1  fully  coincide  with  Frederic  H. 
Jacobi,  that  the  only  true  spirit  of  Tolerance  consists  in  our 
conscientious  toleration  of  each  other's  intolerance.  Whatever 
pretends  to  be  more  than  this,  is  either  the  unthinking  cant  of 
fashion,  or  i\^e  soul-palsying  narcotic  of  moral  and  religious  in- 
difference. All  of  us  without  exception,  in  the  same  mode 
though  not  in  the  same  degree,  are  necessarily  subjected  to  the 
risk  of  mistaking  positive  opinions  for  certainty  and  clear  in- 
sight. From  this  yoke  we  cannot  free  ourselves,  but  by  ceas- 
ing to  be  men  ;  and  this  too  not  in  order  to  transcend  but  to 
sink  below  our  human  nature.  For  if  in  one  point  of  view  it 
be  the  mulct  of  our  fall,  and  of  the  corruption  of  our  will  ;  it 
is  equally  true,  that  contemplated  from  another  point,  it  is  the 
jprice   and   consequence   of  our  progressiveness.     To  him  who 


19- 

is  compelled  to  pace  to  and  fro  within  the  high  walls  and  in 
the  narrow  courtyard  of  a  prison,  all  objects  may  appear  clear 
and  distinct.  It  is  the  traveller  journeying  onward,  full  of 
heart  and  hope,  with  an  ever-varying  horrizon,  on  the  boundless 
plain,  that  is  liable  to  mistake  clouds  for  mountains,  and  the 
mirage  of  drouth  for  an  expanse  of  refreshing  waters. 

But  notwithstanding  this  deep  conviction  of  our  general  fal- 
libility, and  the  most  vivid  recollection  of  my  own,  I  dare 
avow  with  the  German  philosopher,  that  as  far  as  opinions, 
and  not  motives  ;  principles,  and  not  men,  are  concerned  ;  I 
neither  am  tolerant,  nor  wish  to  be  regarded  as  such.  Accor- 
ding to  my  judgment,  it  is  mere  ostentation,  or  a  poor  trick 
that  hypocrisy  plays  with  the  cards  of  nonsense,  when  a  man 
makes  protestation  of  being  perfectly  tolerant  in  respect  of  all 
principles,  opinions  and  persuasions,  those  alone  excepted  which 
render  the  holders  intolerant.  For  he  either  means  to  say  by 
this,  that  he  is  utterly  indifl'erent  towards  all  truth,  and  finds 
nothing  so  insufferable  as  the  persuasion  of  their  being  any  such 
mighty  value  or  importance  attached  to  the  profession  of  the 
Truth  as  should  give  a  marked  preference  to  any  one  convic- 
tion above  any  other ;  or  else  he  means  nothing,  and  amuses 
himself  with  articulating  the  pulses  of  the  air  instead  of  inha- 
ling it  in  the  more  healthful  and  profitable  exercise  of  yawning. 
That  which  doth  not  loithstand,  hath  itself  no  standing  place. 
To  fill  a  station  is  to  exclude  or  repel  others, — and  this  is  not 
less  the  definition  of  moral,  than  of  material,  solidity.  We  live 
by  continued  acts  of  defence,  that  involve  a  sort  of  offensive 
warfare.  But  a  man's  principles,  on  which  he  grounds  his 
Hope  and  his  Faith,  are  the  life  of  his  life.  We  live  by  Faith, 
says  the  philosophic  Apostle ;  and  faith  without  principles  is 
but  a  flattering  phrase  for  wilful  positiveness,  or  fanatical  bodily 
sensation.  Well,  and  of  good  right  therefore,  do  we  maintain 
with  more  zeal,  than  we  should  defend  body  or  estate,  a  deep 
and  inward  conviction,  which  is  as  the  moon  to  us ;  and  like 
the  moon  with  all  its  massy  shadows  and  deceptive  gleams,  it 
yet  lights  us  on  our  way,  poor  travellers  as  we  are,  and  benight- 
ed pilgrims.  With  all  its  spots  and  changes  and  temporary 
eclipses,  with  all  its  vain  halos  and  bedimming  vapors,  it  yet 
reflects  the  liglit  that  is  to  rise  on  us,  which  even  now  is  iHsing, 
though  intercepted  from  our  immediate  view  by  the  mountains 
that  enclose  and  frown  over  the  vale  of  our  mortal  life. 


9^ 

This  again  is  the  mystery  and  the  dignity  of  our  human  nature, 
that  we  cannot  give  up  our  reason,   without  giving  up  at  the 
same  time  our  individual  personality.     For  that  must  appear  to 
each   man  to  be  his  reason  which  produces  in  him   the  highest 
sense  of  certainty ;   and  jet  it  is   7iot  reason,  except  as  far  as  it 
is  of  universal  validity  and   obligatory  on  all   mankind.     There 
is  a  one  heart  for  the  whole  mighty  mass  of  Humanity,  and  eve- 
ry pulse  in  each  particular  vessel  strives  to  beat  in  concert  with 
it.     He  who  asserts  that  truth   is   of  no   importance    except  in 
the  sense  of  sincerity,  confounds  sense   with  madness,   and  (he 
word  of  God  with  a  dream.     If  the   power  of  reasoning  be  the 
Gift  of  the  Supreme   Reason,  that  we   be   sedulous,  yea,  and 
militant  in  the  endeavor  to  reason   aright,  is   his  implied  Com- 
mand.    But  what  is  of  permanent  and   essential  interest  to  one 
man  must  needs  be  so  to  all,  in  proportion  to  the  means  and  op- 
portunities of  each.     Woe  to  him  by  whom  these  are  neglected, 
and  double  woe  to  him  by  whom  they  are  withheld  ;  for  he  robs 
at  once  himself  and  his  neighbor.     That  man's  Soul  is  not  dear 
to  himself,  to  whom  the    Souls  of  his    Brethren   are   not   dear. 
As  far  as  they  can  be  influenced  by   him,   they  are   parts   and 
properties  of  his  own  soul,  their   faith  his  faith,  their  errors  his 
burthen,  their  righteousness  and  bliss  his  righteousness  and  his 
reward — and  of  their  Guilt  and  Misery  his  own  will  be  the  echo! 
As  much  as  I  love  my  fellow-men,  so  much  and  no  more  will  I 
be  intolerant  of  their  Heresies  and  Unbelief — and  I  will  honor 
and  hold  forth  the  right  hand   of  fellowship  to  every  individual 
who  is  equally  intolerant  of  that  which  he  conceives  such  in  me. 
We  will  both  exclaim — I  know  not,   what  antidotes   among  the 
complex   views,   impulses  and   circumstances,   that  form  your 
moral  Being,  God's  gracious  Providence  may  have  vouchsafed 
to  you  against  the  serpent  fang  of  this  Error — but  it  is  a  viper, 
and  its  poison  deadly,  although  through  higher  influences  some 
men  may  take  the  reptile  to  their  bosom,  and    remain  unstung. 
In  one  of  these  viperous  Journals,  wliich   deal  out   Profane- 
ness,  Hate,  Fury,  and  Sedition  throughout  the  Land,  I  read  the 
following  Paragraph.     "  The  Brahman  believes  that  every  man 
will  be  saved  in  his  own  persuasion,  and  that   all  religions  are 
equally  pleasing  to   the    God   of  all.     The    Christian   confines 
salvation  to   the   Believer   in  his   own   Vedahs   and   Shasters. 
Which  is  the  more  humane  and  philosophic  creed  of  the  two  ?" 
Let    question    answer    question.       Self-complacent    Scoffer ! 


81 

Whom  meanest  thou  by  God  ?  The  God  of  Truth  ?  and  can 
He  be  pleased  with  falsehood  and  the  debasement  or  utter  sus- 
pension of  the  Reason  which  he  gave  to  man  that  he  might  re- 
ceive from  him  the  sacrifice  of  Truth  ?  Or  the  God  of  love  and 
mercy  ?  And  can  He  be  pleased  with  the  blood  of  thousands 
poured  out  under  the  wheels  of  Juggernaut,  or  with  the  shrieks 
of  children  offered  up  as  fire  offerings  to  Baal  or  to  Moloch  ? 
Or  dost  thou  mean  the  God  of  holiness  and  infinite  purity  ?  and 
can  He  be  pleased  with  abominations  unutterable  and  more 
than  brutal  defilements  ?  and  equally  pleased  too  as  with  that 
religion,  which  commands  us  that  we  have  no  fellowship  with 
the  unfruitful  works  of  darkness  but  to  reprove  them  ?  With 
that  religion,  which  strikes  the  fear  of  the  Most  High  so  deeply, 
and  the  sense  of  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin  so  inwardly^ 
that  the  Believer  anxiously  enquires  :  "  Shall  I  give  my  first- 
born for  my  transgression,  the  fruit  of  my  body  for  the  sin  of  my 
soul  ?" — and  which  makes  answer  to  him. — "  He  hath  shewed 
thee,  0  man,  what  is  good  ;  and  what  doth  the  Lord  require  of 
thee,  but  to  walk  justly,  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  hum« 
bly  with  thy  God."  But  I  check  myself.  It  is  at  once  folly 
and  profanation  of  Truth,  to  reason  with  the  man  who  ca» 
place  before  his  eyes  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  directing  tha 
eye  of  the  widow  from  the  corse  of  her  husband  upward  to  his 
and  her  Redeemer,  (the  God  of  the  living  and  not  of  the  dead) 
and  then  the  remorseless  Brahmin  goading  on  the  disconsolate 
victim  to  the  flames  of  her  husband's  funeral  pile,  abandoned 
by,  and  abandoning,  the  helpless  pledges  of  their  love — and 
yet  dare  ask,  which  is  the  more  humane  and  philosophic  creed 
of  the  two  ?  No  !  No  !  when  such  opinions  are  in  question  I 
neither  am,  or  will  be,  or  wish  to  be  regarded  as,  tolerant. 


11 


ESSAY    XIV. 


/ 


Knowing  the  heart  of  Man  is  set  to  be 
The  centre  of  this  world,  about  the  which 
These  revolutions  of  disturbances 
Still  roll ;  where  all  th'  aspects  of  misery 
Predominate  ;  whose  strong  effects  are  such, 
As  he  nujst  bear,  being  powerless  to  redress: 
And  that  imless  above  liimself  he  can 
Erect  himself,  how  poor  a  thing  is  Man ! 


Daniel. 


I  have  thus  endeavoured,  with  an  anxiety  which  may  per- 
haps have  misled  me  into  prolixity,  to  detail  and  ground  the 
conditions  under  which  the  communication  of  truth  is  com- 
manded or  forbidden  to  us  as  individuals,  by  our  conscience  ; 
and  those  too,  under  which  it  is  permissible  by  the  law  which 
controls  our  conduct  as  members  of  the  state.  But  is  the 
subject  of  sulficient  importance  to  deserve  so  minute  an  ex- 
amination ?  0  that  my  readers  would  look  round  the  world,  as 
it  now  is,  and  make  to  themselves  a  faithful  catalogue  of  its 
many  miseries!  From  what  do  these  proceed,  and  on  what  do 
they  depend  for  their  continuance  ?  Assuredly  for  the  great- 
er part  on  the  actions  of  men,  and  those  again  on  the  want  of 
a  vital  principle  of  action.  We  live  by  faith.  The  essence  of 
virtue  consists  in  the  principle.  And  the  reality  of  this,  as 
well  as  its  importance,  is  belived  by  all  men  in  fact,  few  as 
there  may  be  who  bring  the  truth  forward  into  the  light  of  dis- 
tinct consciousness.  Yet  all  men  feel,  and  at  times  acknow- 
ledge to  themselves,  the  true  cause  of  their  misery.  There  is 
no  man  so  base,  but  that  at  some  time  or  other,  and  in  some  way 
or  other,  he  admits  that  he  is  not  what  he  ought  to  be,  though 


83 

bj  a  curious  art  of  self-delusion,  by  an  effort  to  keep  at  peace 
with  himself  as  long  and  as  much  as  possible,  he  will  throw  off 
the  blame  from  the  amenable  part  of  his  nature,  his  moral  prin- 
ciple, to  that  which  is  independent  of  his  will,  namely,  the 
degree  of  his  intellectual  faculties.  Hence,  for  once  that  a 
man  exclaims,  how  dishonest  I  am,  on  what  base  and  unwor- 
thy motives  I  act,  we  may  hear  a  hundred  times,  what  a  fool  I 
am  !  curse  on  my  folly?*  and  the  like. 

Yet  even  this  implies  an  obscure  sentiment,  that  wath  clearer 
conceptions  in  the  understanding,  the  principle  of  action  would 
become  purer  in  the  will.     Thanks  to  the  image  of  our  Maker 
not  Avholly  obliterated  from  any  human  soul,  we  dare  not  pur-  I 
chase  an  exemption  from  guilt  by  an  excuse,  which  would  place 
our  amelioration  out  of  our  own   power.     Thus  the  very  man,  ' 
who  will  abuse   himself  for  a  fool   but  not  for  a  villian,  w'ould 
rather,  spite  of  the  usual   professions   to  the  contrary,  be  con- 
demned as  a  rogue  by  other  men,  than  be  acquitted  as  a  block- 
head.    But  be  this  as  it  may,  out  of  himself,  however,  he  sees 
plainly  the  true  cause  of  our  common  complaints.     Doubtless, 
there  seem  many  physical  causes  of  distress,  of  disease,  of  po- 
verty and  of  desolation — tempests,  earthquakes,  volcanoes,  wild 
or  venomous  animals,  barren  soils,  inicertain  or   tyrannous  cli- 
mates, pestilential  swamps,  and  death  in  the  very  air  we  breathe. 
Yet  when  do  we   hear  the  general  wretchedness  of  mankind 
attributed   to   these?     in   Iceland,   the   earth  opened  and  sent 
forth  three  or  more  vast  rivers  of  fire.     The  smoke   and  va- 
pour from  them  dimmed   the   light  of  Heaven  through  all  Eu- 
rope, for  months  •   even  at  Cadiz,  the  sun  and  moon,  for  sever- 
al weeks,  seemed  turned   to  blood.     What  was   the  amount  of 
the  injury  to  the  human  race  ?  sixty  men  were  destroyed,  and 
of  these   the  greater   part  in  consequence  of  their  own  impru- 
dence.    Natural  calamities  that  do   indeed  spread   devastation 
wide,  (for  instance,  the  Marsh  Fever,)  are  almost  without  ex-    ' 
ception,  voices  of  Nature  in  her  all-intelligible  language — do 
this !  or  cease  to  do  that !     By  the    mere    absence  of  one  su- 


*  We  do  not  consider  as  exceptions  the  tliousands  that  abuse  themselves 
by  rote  with  hp-penitence,  or  the  wild  ravings  of  fanaticism:  for  these  per- 
sons at  the  very  time  they  speak  so  vehetneiitly  of  the  wickedness  and  rot- 
teness  of  their  hearts,  are  then  commonly  the  warmest  in  their  own  good 
oi)inion,  covered  round  and  comfortable  in  the  wrap-rascal  of  self-hypocrisy. 


34 

perstition,  and  of  the  sloth  engendered  by  it,  the  Plague  would 
cease  to  exist  throughout  Asia  and  Africa.  Pronounce  medita- 
tively the  name  of  Jenner,  and  ask  what  might  we  not  hope, 
what  need  we  deem  unattainable,  if  all  the  time,  the  effort,  the 
skill,  which  we  waste  in  making  ourselves  miserable  through 
vice,  and  vicious  through  misery,  were  embodied  and  mar- 
shalled to  a  systematic  war  against  the  existing  evils  of  na- 
ture ?  No,  "  It  is  a  wicked  world  /"  This  is  so  generally  the 
solution,  that  this  very  wickedness  is  assigned  by  selfish  men, 
as  their  excuse  for  doing  nothing  to  render  it  better,  and  for  op- 
posing those  who  would  make  the  attempt.  What  -have  not 
Clarkson,  Granville  Sharp,  Wilberforce,  and  the  Societyfof  the 
Friends,  effected  for  the  honor,  and  if  we  believe  in  a  retribu- 
tive providence,  for  the  continuance  of  the  prosperity  of  the 
English  nation,  imperfectly  as  the  intellectual  and  moral  facul- 
ties of  the  people  at  large  are  developed  at  present  ?  What 
may  not  be  effected,  if  the  recent  discovery  of  the  means  of 
educating  nations  (freed,  however,  from  the  vile  sophistications 
and  mutilations  of  ignorant  mountebanks,)  shall  have  been  ap- 
plied to  its  full  extent  ?  Would  I  frame  to  myself  the  most  in- 
spiriting representation  of  future  bliss,  which  my  mind  is  ca- 
pable of  comprehending,  it  would  be  embodied  to  me  in  the 
idea  of  Bell  receiving,  at  some  distant  period,  the  appropri- 
ate reward  of  his  earthly  labours,  when  thousands  and  ten 
thousands  of  glorified  spirits,  whose  reason  and  conscience  had, 
through  his  efforts,  been  unfolded,  shall  sing  the  song  of  their 
own  redemption,  and  pouring  forth  praises  to  God  and  to  their 
Saviour,  shall  repeat  his  "  New  name"  in  Heaven,  give  thanks 
for  his  earthly  virtues,  as  the  chosen  instruments  of  divine  mer- 
cy to  themselves,  and  not  seldom  perhaps,  turn  their  eyes  to- 
ward him,  as  from  the  sun  to  its  image  in  the  fountain,  with  se- 
condary gratitude  and  the  permitted  utterance  of  a  human  love  ! 
Were  but  a  hundred  men  to  combine  a  deep  conviction  that 
virtuous  habits  may  be  formed  by  the  very  means  by  which 
knowledge  is  comnnniicated,  that  men  may  be  made  better,  not 
only  in  consequence,  but  by  the  mode  and  in  the  process,  of 
instruction  :  were  but  an  hundred  men  to  combine  that  clear 
conviction  of  this,  which  I  myself  at  tliis  moment  feel,  even  as 
I  feel  the  certainty  of  my  being,  with  the  perseverance  of  a 
Clarkson  or  a  Bell,  the  promises  of  ancient  prophecy  would 
disclose  themselves  to  our  faith,  even   as  when  a  noble  castle 


85 

hidden  from  us  by  an  intervening  mist,  discovers  itself  by  its 
reflection  in  the  tranquil  lake,  on  the  opposite  shore  of  which 
we  stand  gazing.  What  an  awful  duty,  what  a  nurse  of  all 
other,  the  fairest  virtues,  does  not  hope  become  !  We  are  bad 
ourselves,  because  we  despair  of  the  goodness  of  others. 

If  then  it  be  a  trutli,  attested  alike  by  common  feeling  and 
common  sense,  that  the  greater  part  of  human  misery  depends 
directly  on  hujiian  vices  and  the  remainder  indirectly,  by  what 
means  can  we  act  on  men  so  as  to  remove  or  preclude  these 
vices  and  purify  their  principle  of  moral  election  ?  The  ques- 
tion is  not  by  what  means  each  man  is  to  alter  his  own  charac- 
ter— in  order  to  this,  all  the  means  prescribed  and  all  the  aid- 
ances  given  by  religion,  may  be  necessary  for  him.  Vain,  of 
themselves,  may  be, 

the  sayings  of  the  wise 


In  ancient  and  in  modem  books  ini'olled 
******** 

Unless  he  feel  within 
Some  source  of  consolation  from  above — 
Secret  refreshings,  that  repair  his  strength 
And  fainting  spirits  uphold. 


Samson  Agojmstes. 


This  is  not  the  question.  Virtue  would  not  be  virtue,  could 
it  be  given  by  one  fellow-creature  to  another.  To  make  use  ot 
all  the  means  and  appliances  in  our  power  to  the  actual  attain- 
ment of  Rectitude,  is  the  abstract  of  the  Duty  which  we  owe 
to  ourselves  ;  to  supply  those  means  as  far  as  we  can,  comprizes 
our  Duty  to  others.  The  question  then  is,  what  are  these 
means?  Can  they  be  any  other  than  the  communication  of 
knowledge,  and  the  removal  of  those  evils  and  impediments 
which  prevent  its  reception  ?  It  may  not  be  in  our  power  to 
combine  both,  but  it  is  in  the  powder  of  every  man  to  contribute 
to  the  former,  who  is  sufficiently  informed  to  feel  that  it  is  his 
duty.  If  it  be  said,  that  we  should  endeavour  not  so  much  to 
remove  ignorance,  as  to  make  the  ignorant  religious  :  iicligion 
herself,  through  her  sacred  oracles,  answers  for  me,  that  all 
effective  faith  pre-supposes  knowledge  and  individual  convic- 
tion. If  the  mere  acquiescence  in  truth,  uncompiehended  and 
unfathomed,  were  sufficient,  few  indeed  would  be  the  vicious 
and  the  miserable,  in  this  country  at  least  where  speculative 
infidelity  is.  Heaven  be   praised,  confined  to  a  small  number. 


86 

Like  bodilj  deformity,  there  Is  one  instance  here  and  another 
there  ;  but  three  in  one  place  are  already  an  undue  proportion. 
It  is  highly  worthy  of  observation,  that  the  inspired  writings 
received  by  Christians  are  distinguishable  from  all  other  books 
pretending  to  inspiration,  from  the  scriptures  of  the  Bramins, 
and  even  from  the  Koran,  in  their  strong  and  frequent  recom- 
mendations of  truth.  I  do  not  here  mean  veracity,  which  can- 
not but  be  enforced  in  every  code  which  appeals  to  the  reli- 
gious principle  of  man;  but  knowledge.  This  is  not  only  ex- 
tolled as  the  crown  and  honor  of  a  man,  but  to  seek  after  it  is 
again  and  again  commanded  us  as  one  of  our  most  sacred  du- 
ties. Yea,  the  very  perfection  and  final  bliss  of  the  glorified 
spirit  is  represented  by  the  Apostle  as  a  plain  aspect,  or  intui- 
tive beholding  of  truth  in  its  eternal  and  immutable  source. 
Not  that  knowledge  can  of  itself  do  all !  The  light  of  religion 
is  not  that  of  the  moon,  light  without  heat ;  but  neither  is  its 
warmth  that  of  the  stove,  warmth  without  light.  Religion  is 
the  sun,  whose  warmth  indeed  swells,  and  stirs,  and  actuates 
the  life  of  nature,  but  who  at  the  same  time  beholds  all  the 
growth  of  life  with  a  master  eye,  makes  all  objects  glorious  on 
which  he  looks,  and  by  that  glor}^  visible  to  all  others. 

But  though  knowledge  be  not  the  only,  yet  that  it  is  an  in- 
dispensable and  most  eifectual  agent  in  the  direction  of  our  ac- 
tions, one  consideration  will  convince  us.  It  is  an  undoubted 
fact  of  human  nature,  that  the  sense  of  impossibility  quenches 
all  will.  Sense  of  utter  inaptitude  does  the  same.  The  man 
shuns  the  beautiful  flame,  which  is  eagerly  grasped  at  by  the 
infant.  The  sense  of  a  disproportion  of  certain  after-harm  to 
present  gratification — produces  effects  almost  equally  uniform  : 
though  almost  perishing  with  thirst,  we  should  dash  to  the 
earth  a  goblet  of  wine  in  which  we  had  seen  a  poison  infused, 
though  the  poison,  were  without  taste  or  odour,  or  even  added 
to  the  pleasures  of  both.  Are  not  all  our  vices  equally  inapt 
to  the  universal  end  of  human  actions,  the  satisfaction  of  the 
agent  ?  Are  not  their  pleasures  equally  disproportionate  to  the 
after-harm?  Yet  many  a  maiden,  who  will  not  giasp  at  the 
fire,  will  yet  purchase  a  wreath  of  diamonds  at  the  price  of  her 
health,  her  honor,  nay  (and  she  herself  knows  it  at  the  mo- 
ment of  her  choice)  at  the  sacrifice  of  her  peace  and  happiness. 
The  sot  would  reject  the  poisoned  cup,  yet  the  trembling  hand 
with  which  he  raises  his  daily  or  hourly  draught  to  his  lips, 


87 

has  not  left  him  ignorant  that  this  too  is  altogether  a  poison. 
I  know  it  will  be  objected,  that  the  consequences  foreseen 
are  less  immediate  ;  that  they  are  diffused  over  a  larger  space 
of  time  ;  and  that  the  slave  of  vice  hopes  where  no  hope  is. 
This,  however,  only  removes  the  question  one  step  further : 
for  why  should  the  distance  or  diffusion  of  known  consequences 
produce  so  great  a  difference  ?  Why  are  men  the  dupes  of  the 
present  moment  ?  Evidently  because  the  conceptions  are  in- 
distinct in  the  one  case,  and  vivid  in  the  other ;  because  all 
confused  conceptions  render  us  restless  ;  and  because  restless- 
ness can  drive  us  to  vices  that  promise  no  enjoyment,  no  not 
even  the  cessation  of  that  restlessness.  This  is  indeed  the 
dread  punishment  attached  by  nature  to  habitual  vice,  that  its 
impulses  wax  as  its  motives  wane.  No  object,  not  even  the 
light  of  a  solitary  taper  in  the  far  distance,  tempts  the  benight- 
ed mind  from  before  ;  but  its  own  restlessness  dogs  it  from  be- 
hind, as  with  the  iron  goad  of  Destiny.  What  then  is  or  can 
be  the  preventive,  the  remedy,  the  counteraction,  but  the  ha- 
bituation of  the  intellect  to  clear,  distinct,  and  adequate  con- 
ceptions concerning  all  things  that  are  the  possible  objects  of 
clear  conception,  and  thus  to  reserve  the  deep  feelings  which 
belong,  as  by  natural  right  to  those  obscure  ideas*  that  are  neces- 
sary to  the  moral  perfection  of  the  human  being,  notwithstand- 
ing, yea,  even  in  consequence,  of  their  obscurity — to  reserve 
these  feelings,  I  repeat,  for  objects,  which  their  very  sublimity 
renders  indefinite,  no  less  than  their  indefiniteness  renders  them 
sublime  :  namely,  to  the  Ideas  of  Being,  Form,  Life,  the  Rea- 
son, the  Law  of  Conscience,  Freedom,  Immortality,  God  !  To 
connect  with  the  objects  of  our  senses  the  obscure  notions  and 
consequent  vivid  feelings,  which  are  due  only  to  immaterial 
and  pennanent  things,  is   profanation   relatively   to   the   heart, 


*  I  have  not  expressed  myself  as  clearly  as  I  could  wish.  But  the  truth  of 
the  assertion,  that  deep  feeling  has  a  tendency  to  combine  with  obscure  ideas, 
in  preference  to  distinct  and  clear  notions,  may  be  proved  liy  the  history  of 
Fanatics  and  Fanaticism  in  all  ages  and  countries.  The  odium  theologicurn 
is  even  proverbial:  and  it  is  the  common  conij)laint  of  Philosophers  and  phi- 
losophic Historians,  that  the  jiassions  of  tiie  disputants  are  conmionly  violent 
in  proportion  to  the  subtlety  and  obscurity  of  the  questions  in  dispute.  Nor 
is  this  fact  confined  to  professional  theologians :  for  whole  nations  have  dis- 
played the  same  agitations,  and  have  sacrificed  national  policy  to  the  more 
powerful  interest  of  a  controverted  obscurity. 


88 

and  superstition  in  the  understanding.  It  is  in  this  sense,  that 
the  philosophic  Apostle  calls  Covetousness  Idolatry.  Could  we 
emancipate  ourselves  from  the  bedimming  influences  of  custom, 
and  the  transforming  witchcraft  of  early  associations,  we  should 
see  as  numerous  tribes  oi  Fetish- Worshippers  in  the  streets  of 
London  and  Paris,  as  we  hear  of  on  the  coasts  of  Africa. 


ESSAY    XV, 


A  palace  when  'tis  that  which  it  should  be 
Leaves  growing,  and  stands  sucli,  or  else  decays 
With  him  who  dwells  there,  'tis  not  so :  for  lie 
Should  still  urge  upward,  and  his  fortune  raise. 

Our  bodies  had  their  morning,  have  their  noon, 
And  shall  not  better — the  next  change  is  night ; 
But  their  fair  larger  guest,  t'whom  sun  and  moon 
Are  sparks  and  short-lived,  claims  another  right. 

The  noble  soul  by  age  grows  lustier. 
Her  aj)petite  and  her  digestion  mend  ; 
We  must  not  starve  nor  hope  to  pamper  her 
With  woman's  milk  and  pap  unto  the  end. 

Provide  you  manlier  diet !  Donne. 


I  am  fully  aware,  that  what  I  am  writing  and  have  written 
(in  these  latter  Essays  at  least)  will  expose  me  to  the  censure 
of  some,  as  bewildering  myself  and  readers  with  JNIetaphysics  ; 
to  the  ridicule  of  others  as  a  school-boy  declaimer  on  old  and 
worn-out  truisms  or  exploded  fancies  ;  and  to  the  objection  of 
most  as  obscure.  The  last  real  or  supposed  defect  has  already  re- 
ceived an  answer  both  in  the  preceding  Numbers,  and  in  page 
34  of  the  Appendix  to  the  Author's  First  Lay-Sermon,  entitled 


89 

the  Statesman's  Manual.  Of  the  two  former,  I  shall  take 
the  present  opportunity  of  declaring  my  sentiments  :  especially 
as  I  have  already  received  a  hint  that  my  "  idol,  Milton,  has 
represented  Metaphysics  as  the  subjects  which  the  bad  spirits 
in  hell  delight  in  discussing."  And  truly,  if  I  had  exerted  my 
subtlety  and  invention  in  persuading  myself  and  others  that  we 
are  but  living  machines,  and  that  (as  one  of  the  late  followers 
of  Hobbes  and  Hartley  has  expressed  the  system)  the  assassin 
and  his  dagger  are  equally  fit  objects  of  moral  esteem  and  ab- 
horrence ;  or  if  with  a  writer  of  wider  influence  and  higher 
authority,  I  had  reduced  all  virtue  to  a  selfish  prudence  eked 
out  by  superstition,  (for  assuredly,  a  creed  which  takes  its  cen- 
tral point  in  conscious  selfishness,  whatever  be  the  forms  or 
names  that  act  on  the  selfish  passion,  a  ghost  or  a  constable,  can 
have  but  a  distant  relationship  to  that  religion,  which  places  its 
essence  in  our  loving  our  neighbor  as  ourselves,  and  God  above 
all)  I  know  not,  by  what  arguments  I  could  repel  the  sarcasm. 
But  what  are  my  metaphysics.-^  merely  the  referring  of  the 
mind  to  its  own  consciousness  for  truths  indispensable  to  its  own 
happiness  !  To  what  purposes  do  I,  or  am  I  about  to  employ 
them  ?  To  perplex  our  clearest  notions  and  living  moral  in- 
stincts ?  To  deaden  the  feelings  of  will  and  free  power,  to 
extinguish  the  light  of  love  and  conscience,  to  make  myself 
and  others  worthless,  soul-less,  God-less  ?  No  !  to  expose  the 
folly  and  the  legerdemain  of  those  who  have  thus  abused  the 
blessed  machine  of  language ;  to  support  all  old  and  vener- 
able truths ;  and  by  them  to  support,  to  kindle,  to  project  the 
spirit ;  to  make  the  reason  spread  light  over  our  feelings,  to 
make  our  feelings,  with  their  vital  warmth,  actualize  our  reason  : 
— these  are  my  objects,  these  are  my  subjects,  and  are  these 
the   metaphysics  which  the  bad  spirits  in  hell  delight  in  f 

But  how  shall  I  avert  the  scorn  of  those  critics  who  laugh  at 
the  oldness  of  my  topics,  Evil  and  Good,  Necessity  and  Arbi- 
trament, Immortality  and  the  Ultimate  Aim  ?  By  what  shall  I 
regain  their  favor  ?  My  themes  must  be  7iew,  a  French  con- 
stitution ;  a  balloon ;  a  change  of  ministry  ;  a  fresh  batch  of 
kings  on  the  Continent,  or  of  peers  in  our  happier  island ;  or 
who  had  the  best  of  it  of  two  parliamentary  gladiators,  and 
whose  speech,  on  the  subject  of  Europe  bleeding  at  a  thousand 
wounds,  or  our  own  country  struggling  for  herself  and  all  hu- 
man nature,  was  cheered  by  the  greatest  number  of  laughs,  loud 
12 


90 

laughs,  and  very  loud  laughs :  ( which,  carefully  marked  by 
italics,  form  most  conspicuous  and  strange  parentheses  in  the 
newspaper  reports.)  Or  if  I  must  be  philosophical,  the  last 
chemical  discoveries,  provided  I  do  not  trouble  my  reader  with 
the  principle  which  gives  them  their  highest  interest,  and  the 
character  of  intellectual  grandeur  to  the  discoverer  ;  or  the  last 
shower  of  stones,  and  that  they  were  supposed,  by  certain  phi- 
losophers, to  have  been  projected  from  some  volcano  in  the 
moon,  taking  care,  however,  not  to  add  any  of  the  cramp  rea- 
sons for  this  opinion  !  Something  new,  however,  it  must  be,  • 
quite  new  and  quite  out  of  themselves  !  for  whatever  is  within 
them,  whatever  is  deep  within  them,  must  be  as  old  as  the  first 
dawn  of  human  reason.  But  to  find  no  contradiction  in  the 
union  of  old  and  new,  to  contemplate  the  ancient  of  days 
with  feelings  as  fresh,  as  if  they  then  sprung  forth  at  his  OAvn 
fiat,  this  characterizes  the  minds  that  feel  the  riddle  of  the 
world,  and  may  help  to  unravel  it!  To  carry  on  the  feelings  of 
childhood  into  the  powers  of  manhood,  to  combine  the  child's 
sense  of  wonder  and  novelty  with  the  appearances  which  every 
day  for  perhaps  forty  years  had  rendered  familiar, 

With  Sun  and  Moon  and  Stars  throughout  the  year, 
And  Man  and  Woman- 

this  is  the  character  and  privilege  of  genius,  and  one  of  the 
marks  which  distinguish  genius  from  talents.  And  so  to  pre- 
sent familiar  objects  as  to  awaken  the  minds  of  others  to  a  like 
freshness  of  sensation  concerning  them  (that  constant  accom- 
paniment of  mental,  no  less  than  of  bodily,  convalescence) — to 
the  same  modest  questioning  of  a  self-discovered  and  intelli- 
gent ignorance,  which,  like  the  deep  and  massy  foundations  of 
a  Roman  bridge,  forms  half  of  the  whole  structure  [prudens  in- 
teiTOgatio  dimidium  scienticE,  says  Lord  Bacon) — this  is  the 
prime  merit  of  genius,  and  its  most  unequivocal  mode  of  mani- 
festation. Who  has  not,  a  thousand  times,  seen  it  snow  upon 
water  ?  who  has  not  seen  it  with  a  new  feeling,  since  he  has 
read  Burns'  comparison  of  sensual  pleasure, 

To  snow  that  falls  upon  a  river, 

A  moment  white — then  gone  for  ever! 

In    philosophy  equally,   as  in  poetry,   genius    produces  the 
strongest   impressions  of  novelty,  while  it  rescues  the  stalest 


91 

and  most  admitted  truths  from  the  impotence  caused  by  the 
very  circumstance  of  their  universal  admission.  Extremes 
meet — a  proverb,  by  the  bye,  to  collect  and  explain  all  the  in- 
stances and  exemplifications  of  which,  would  constitute  and  ex- 
haust all  philosophy.  Truths,  of  all  others  the  most  awful  and 
mysterious,  yet  being  at  the  same  time  of  universal  interest, 
are  too  often  considered  as  so  true  that  they  lose  all  the  powers 
of  truth,  and  lie  bed-ridden  in  the  dormitory  of  the  soul,  side 
by  side  with  the  most  despised  and  exploded  errors. 

But  as  the  class  of  critics,  whose  contempt  I  have  anticipa- 
ted, commonly  consider  themselves  as  men  of  the  world,  in- 
stead of  hazarding  additional  sneers  by  appealing  to  the  au- 
thorities of  recluse  philosophers,  ( for  such  in  spite  of  all  histo- 
ry, the  men  who  have  distinguished  themselves  by  profound 
thought,  are  generally  deemed,  from  Plato  and  Aristotle  to 
Tully,  and  from  Bacon  to  Berkeley)  I  will  refer  them  to  the 
Darling>k^of  the  polished  Court  of  Augustus,  to  the  man,  whose 
works  har&  been  in  all  ages  deemed  the  models  of  good  sense, 
and  are  still  the  pocket-companion  of  those  who  pride  them- 
selves on  uniting  the  scholar  with  the  gentleman.  This  ac- 
complished man  of  the  world  has  given  us  an  account  of  the 
subjects  of  conversation  between  himself  and  the  illustrious 
statesman  who  governed,  and  the  brightest  luminaries  who  then 
adorned  the  empire  of  the  civilized  world : 

Sermo  oiilur  non  de  villis  domibusve  alkmis 
JVec,  77iale,  nee  ne  lepus  saltet.     Sed  quod  7nagis  ad  tios 
Pertinet,  et  nescire  malum  est,  agitamus :  idrunuie 
Divitiis  homines,  an  sint  virtide  beati'? 
Et  quo  sit  natura  boni  ?  summumque  quid  eius  ?    - 

HoRAT.  Serm.  L.  11.  Sat.  6.  v.  78.* 
Berkeley  indeed  asserts,  and  is  supported  in  his  assertion  by 
the  great  statesmen.  Lord  Bacon  and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  that 
without  an  habitual  interest  in  these  subjects,  a  man  may  be  a 
dexterous  intriguer,  but  never  can  be  a  statesman.  Would  to 
Heaven  that  the  verdict  to  be  passed  on  my  labors  depended 


*  (Literal  Translation.)  Conversation  arises  not  concerning  the  country 
seats  or  families  of  strangers,  nor  wlicther  the  dancing  hare  performed  well 
or  ill.  But  we  discuss  what  more  nearly  concerns  ue,  and  which  it  is  an  evil 
not  to  know :  whether  men  are  made  ha])py  by  riches  or  by  \  irtue  ?  And  in 
what  consists  the  nature  of  good. **  and  what  is  the  ultimate  or  suj  remo  ?  (i.  e. 
the  Summum  Bomim.) 


on  those  who  least  needed  them !  The  water  lilly  in  the  midst 
of  waters  lifts  up  its  broad  leaves,  and  expands  its  petals  at  the 
first  pattering  of  the  shower,  and  rejoices  in  the  rain  with  a 
quicker  sympathy,  than  the  parched  shrub   in  the  sandy  desart. 

God  created  man  in  his  own  image.  To  be  the  image  of  his 
own  eternity  created  he  man  !  Of  eternity  and  self-existence 
what  other  likeness  is  possible  in  a  finite  being,  but  immortali- 
ty and  moral  self-determination  !  In  addition  to  sensation,  per- 
ception, and  practical  judgment  (instinctive  or  acquirable) 
concerning  the  notices  furnished  by  the  organs  of  perception, 
all  which  in  kind  at  least,  the  dog  possesses  in  common  with 
his  master ;  in  addition  to  these,  God  gave  us  reason,  and 
with  reason  he  gave  us  reflective  self-consciousness  ;  gave 
us  principles,  distinguished  from  the  maxims  and  generaliza- 
tions of  outward  experience  by  their  absolute  and  essential 
universality  and  necessity  ;  and  above  all,  by  superadding  to 
reason  the  mysterious  faculty  of  free-will  and  consequent  per- 
sonal amenability,  he  gave  us  conscience — that  law  of  con- 
science, which  in  the  power,  and  as  the  indwelling  word,  of 
an  holy  and  omnipotent  legislator  commands  us — from  among 
the  numerous  ideas  mathematical  and  philosophical,  which  the 
reason  by  the  necessity  of  its  own  excellence  creates  for  itself, 
unconditionally  commands  us  to  attribute  reality,  and  actual  ex- 
istence, to  those  ideas  and  to  those  only,  without  which  the  con- 
science itself  would  be  baseless  and  contradictory,  to  the  ideas 
of  Soul,  of  Free-will,  of  Immortality,  and  of  God  ! 

To  God,  as  the  reality  of  the  conscience  and  the  source  of 
all  obligation  ;  to  Free-will,  as  the  power  of  the  human  being 
to  maintain  the  ob^-L'/iwce,  which  God  through  the  conscience 
has  commanded,  against  all  the  might  of  nature ;  and  to  the 
Immortality  of  the  Soul,  as  a  state  in  which  the  weal  and  woe 
of  man  shall  be  proportioned  to  his  moral  worth. 

With  this  faith  all  nature, 

•all  the  mighty  world 


Of  eye  and  ear- 


presents  itself  to  us,  now  as  the  aggregated  material  of  duty, 
and  now  as  a  vision  of  the  Most  High  revealing  to  us  the  mode, 
and  time,  and  particular  instance  of  applying  and  realizing  that 
universal  rule,  pre-established  in  the  heart  of  our  reason  ! 
"  The  displeasure  of  some  Readers  may,  perhaps,  be  incur- 


93 

red  by  my  having  surprized  them  into  certain  reflections  and 
inquiries,  for  which  they  have  no  curiosity.  But  perhaps  some 
others  may  be  pleased  to  find  themselves  carried  into  ancient 
times,  even  though  they  should  consider  the  hoary  maxims,  de- 
fended in  these  Essays,  barely  as  Hints  to  awaken  and  exer- 
cise the  inquisitive  Reader,  on  points  not  beneath  the  atten- 
tion of  the  ablest  men.  Those  great  men,  Pythagoras,  Plato, 
and  Aristotle,  men  the  most  consummate  in  politics,  who  found- 
ed states,  or  instructed  princes,  or  wrote  most  accurately  on 
public  government,  were  at  the  same  time  the  most  acute  at 
all  abstracted  and  sublime  speculations  :  the  clearest  Hght  being 
ever  necessary  to  guide  the  most  important  actions.  And  what- 
ever the  world  may  opine,  he  who  hath  not  much  meditated  upw 
on  God,  the  Human  Mind,  and  the  Summum  Bonum,  may  pos- 
sibly make  a  thriving  Earth-worm,  but  will  most  indubitably 
make  a  blundering  Patriot  and  a  sorry  statesman.^'' 

SiRis,  §  350. 


ESSAY    XVI. 


Blind  is  that  soul  wliicli  from  tliis  truth  can  swerve, 
No  state  stands  sure,  but  on  the  grounds  of  right, 
Of  virtue,  knowledge  ;  judgment  to  presene, 
And  all  the  powers  of  learning  requisite ! 
Though  other  shifts  a  present  turn  may  serve, 
Yet  in  the  trial  they  will  weigh  too  light. 

Daniel. 


I  earnestly  entreat  the  reader  not  to  be  dissatisfied  eithei 
with  himself  or  with  the  author,  if  he  should  not  at  once  under- 
stand every  part  of  the  preceding  Number ;  btit  rather  to  con- 
sider it  as  a  mere  annunciation  of  a  magnificent  theme,  the  dif- 
ferent parts  of  which  are  to  be  demonstrated  and  developed, 
explained,  illustrated,  and  exemplified  in  the  progress  of  the 


94 

work.  I  likewise  entreat  hfm  to  peruse  with  attention  and  with 
candor,  the  weighty  extract  from  the  judicious  Hooker,  prefix- 
ed as  the  motto  to  a  following  Number  of  the  Friend.  In  works 
of  reasoning,  as  distinguished  from  narration  of  events  or  state- 
ments of  facts ;  but  more  particularly  in  works,  the  object  of 
which  is  to  make  us  better  acquainted  with  our  own  nature,  a 
writer,  whose  meaning  is  every  where  comprehended  as  quick- 
ly as  his  sentences  can  be  read,  may  indeed  have  produced  an 
amusing  composition,  nay,  by  awakening  and  re-enlivening  our 
recollections,  a  useful  one ;  but  most  assuredly  he  will  not  have 
added  either  to  the  stock  of  our  knowledge,  or  to  the  vigor  of 
our  intellect.  For  how  can  we  gather  strength,  but  by  exercise  ? 
«How  can  a  truth,  new  to  us,  be  made  our  own  without  examin- 
ation and  self-questioning — any  new  truth,  I  mean,  that  relates 
to  the  properties  of  the  mind,  and  its  various  faculties  and  af- 
fections !  But  whatever  demands  effort,  requires  time.  Igno- 
rance seldom  vaults  into  knowledge,  but  passes  into  it  through 
an  intermediate  state  of  obscurity,  even  as  night  into  day 
through  twilight.  All  speculative  Truths  begin  with  a  Postu- 
late, even  the  Truths  of  Geometry.  They  all  suppose  an  act 
of  the  Will ;  for  in  the  moral  being  lies  the  source  of  the  intel- 
lectual. The  first  step  to  knowledge,  or  rather  the  previous 
condition  of  all  insight  into  truth,  is  to  dare  commune  with  our 
very  and  permanent  self.  It  is  Warburton's  remark,  not  the 
Friend's,  that  "  of  all  literary  exercitations,  whether  designed 
for  the  use  or  entertainment  of  the  world,  there  are  none  of  so 
much  importance,  or  so.  immediately  our  concern,  as  those  which 
let  us  into  the  knowledge  of  our  own  nature.  Others  may  ex- 
ercise the  understanding  or  amuse  the  imagination  ;  but  these 
only  can  improve  the  heart  and  form  the  human  mind  to  wis- 
dom." 

The  recluse  Hermit  oft'times  more  doth  know 

Of  the  woild's  inmost  wheels,  than  worldlings  can. 

As  Man  is  of  the  World,  the  Heart  of  Man 

Is  an  Epitome  of  God's  great  Book 

Of  Creatures,  and  Men  need  no  further  look. 

Donne. 

The  higher  a  man's  station,  the  more  arduous  and  full  of  peril 
his  duties,  the  more  comprehensive  should  his  Foresight  be, 
the  more  rooted  his  tranquillity  concerning  Life  and  Death.  But 
these  are  gifts  which  no  experience  can  bestow,  but  the  ex- 


95 

perience  from  within  :  and  there  is  a  nobleness  of  the  whole 
personal  being,  to  which  the  contemplation  of  all  events  and 
phsenomena  in  the  Light  of  the  three  Master  Ideas,  announced 
in  the  foregoing  pages,  can  alone  elevate  the  spirit.  Anima 
sapiens,  (says  Giordano  Bruno,  and  let  the  sublime  piety  of  the 
passage  excuse  some  intermixture  of  error,  or  rather  let  the 
words,  as  they  well  may,  be  interpreted  in  a  safe  sense)  Anima 
sapiens  non  timet  ynortem,  immo  interdum  illam  ultro  appetit, 
illi  ultro  occurrit.  Manet  quippe  substantiam  omnem  pro  Du- 
rations Eternitas,  pro  Loco  Immensitas,  pro  Actu  Omni/ormi- 
tas.  Non  levem  igitur  acfutilem,  atqui  gravissimam  perfecto- 
que  Homine  dignissimam  Contemplationis  Partem  persequimur 
uhi  divinitatiSj  naturaque  splendorem,  fusionem,  et  communi- 
cationem,  non  in  Cibo,  Potu,  et  ignobiliore  quadam  materia 
cum  attonitorum  seculo  perquirimus  ;  sed  in  augustd  Omnipo- 
tentis  Regia,  immenso  cetheris  spacio,  in  infinita  nafurce  gemi- 
ncB  omnia  fientis  et  omnia  fa  cientis  potentia,  iinde  tot  astrorwniy 
mundorum  inquam  et  numinum,  uni  altissimo  concinenfium  at' 
que  saltantium  absque  numero  atque  fine  juxta  propositos  ubique 
fines  atque  ordines,  contemplamur.  Sic  ex  visibilium  cBterno^ 
immenso  et  innumerabili  effectu,  sempiterna  immensa  ilia  Ma- 
jestas  atque  bonitas  intellecta  conspicitiir,  proque  sua  dignitate 
innumerabilium  Deorum  (mundorum  dico)  adsistentia,  conci- 
nentia,  et  gloria,  ipsius  enarratione,  immo  ad  occulos  expressa 
condone  glorificatur.  Cut  Immenso  mensum  non  quadrahit 
Domicilium  atque  Templum — ad  cujus  majestatis  plenitudinem 
agnoscendam  atque  percolendain,  numerabilium  ministorum 
nullus  esset  ordo.  Eia  igitur  ad  omnifurmis  Dei  omniformem 
Imaginem  conjectemus  oculos,  vivum  et  magnum  illius  admire- 
mar  simulacrum ! — Hinc  miraculum  magnum  a  Trismegisto 
appellabatur  Homo,  qui  in  Deum  transeat  quasi  ipse  sit  Deus 
qui  conatur  omnia  fieri  sicut  Deus  est  omnia  ;  ad  objectum  sine 
fine,  ubique  tamem  finiendo,  contendit,  sicut  infinitus  est  Deus 
immensus,  ubique  totus.* 


*  Translation. — A  Avise  spirit  does  not  fear  de.itli,  nay,  sometimes,  [as  in  ca- 
ses of  voluntary  martyrdom)  seeks  and  goes  forth  to  meet  it,  of  its  own  accord. 
For  there  awaits  all  actual  beings,  for  din-ation  and  eternity,  for  jjlace  immen- 
sity, for  action  omniforniity.  We  pursue,  therefore  a  species  of  contemplation 
not  light  or  futile,  but  the  weightiesr  and  most  wortiiy  of  an  accomplished 
man,  while  we  examine  and  seek  for  the  splendor,  tlie  interfusion,  and  com- 
munication of  the  Divinity  and  of  Nature,  not  in  meats  or  drink,  or  in  any  yet. 


96 

If  this  be  regarded  as  the  fancies  of  an  enthusiast,  by  such  as 

deem  themselves  most' free, 
When  they  within  this  gross  and  visable  sphere 
Chain  down  the  winged  soul,  scoffing  ascent, 
Proud  in  then-  meanness, 

by  such  as  pronounce  every  man  out  of  his  senses  who  has  not 
lost  his  reason;  even  such  men  may  find  some  w^eight  in  the 
historical  fact  tliat  from  persons,  who  had  previously  strength- 
ened their  intellects  and  feelings  by  the  contemplation  of  Prin- 
ciples— Principles,  the  actions  correspondent  to  which  involve 
one  half  of  their  consequences,  by  their  ennobling  influence  on 
the  agent's  own  soul,  and  have  omnipotence,  as  the  pledge  for 
the  remainder — we  have  derived  the  surest  and  most  general 
maxims  of  prudence.  Of  high  value  are  they  all.  Yet  there 
is  one  among  them  M^orth  all  the  rest,  which  in  the  fullest  and 
primary  sense  of  the  word,  is  indeed,  the  Maxim,  (i.  e.  the 
Maximum )  of  human  Prudence  ;  and  of  which  History  itself  in 
all  that  makes  it  most  worth  studying,  is  one  continued  comment 
and  exemplification.     It  is  this  :   that  there  is  a  Wisdom  higher 

ignobler  matter,  with  tlie  race  of  the  thunder-stricken ;  but  in  the  august  palace 
of  the  Omnipotent,  in  the  illimitable  etherial  space,  in  the  infinite  power, 
that  creates  all  things,  and  is  the  abiding  being  of  all  things. 

There  we  may  contemplate  the  Host  of  Stars,  of  Worlds  and  their  guardi- 
an Deities,  numbers  without  miinber,  each  in  its  appointed  sphere,  singing 
together,  and  dancing  in  adoration  of  the  One  Most  High.  Thus  from  the 
perpetual,  immense,  and  iimumerable  goings  on  of  the  visible  world,  that  sem- 
piternal and  absolutely  infinite  Majesty  is  intellectually  beheld,  and  is  glorifi- 
ed according  to  his  glory,  i)y  the  attendance  and  choral  symi)honies  of  innu- 
merable gods,  who  utter  ibrth  the  glory  of  their  ineffal)le  Creator  in  the  ex- 
pressive language  of  Vision  !  To  him  illimitable,  a  limited  tem})le  will  not 
corresjjond — to  the  acknowledgement  and  due  worship  of  the  Plentitude  of 
his  Majesty  there  would  be  no  ])roportion  in  any  numerable  army  of  minis- 
trnnt  spirits.  Let  us  then  cast  our  eyes  upon  the  omniform  image  of  the  At- 
tributes of  the  all-creating  Suj)reme,  nor  admit  any  re])resentation  of  his  Ex- 
cellency but  the  living  Universe,  which  he  has  created ! — Thence  Nvas  man 
entitled  by  Trismegistus,  "the  gr^nt  INIiracle,  "inasmuch  as  he  has  been  made 
capable  of  entering  into  union  with  God,  as  if  he  were  himself  a  divine  na- 
ture ;  tries  to  become  all  things,  even  as  in  God  all  things  are ;  and  in  limitless 
progi-ession  of  limited  States  of  Being,  urges  onward  to  the  ultimate  aim,  even 
as  God  is  sinniltaneously  infinite,  and  every  where  All! 

In  the  last  volume  of  the  work,  announced  and  its  nature  ;md  objects  ex- 
plained, at  the  close  of  the  present,  I  purpose,  to  give  an  account  of  the  life  of 
Giordano  Bruno,  the  friend  of  Sir  rhilip  Sidney,  who  was  binut  under  pre- 


97 

than  Prudence,  to  which  Prudence  stands  in  the  same  relation 
as  the  Mason  and  Carpenter  to  the  genial  and  scientific  Archi- 
tect :  and  from  the  habits  of  thinking  and  feeling,  that  in  this 
Wisdom  had  their  first  formation,  our  Nelsons  and  Wellingtons 
inherit  that  glorious  hardihood,  which  completes  the  under- 
taking, ere  the  contemptuous  calculator  (who  has  left  nothing 
omitted  in  his  scheme  of  probabilities,  except  the  might  of  the 
human  mind)  has  finished  his  pretended  proof  of  its  impossi- 
bility. You  look  to  Facts  and  profess  to  take  Experience  for 
your  guide.  Well !  I  too  appeal  to  Experience  :  and  let  Facts 
be  the  ordeal  of  my  position  !  Therefore,  although  I  have  in 
this  and  the  preceding  Numbers  quoted  more  frequently  and 
copiously  than  I  shall  permit  myself  to  do  in  future,  I  owe  it  to 
the  cause  I  am  pleading,  not  to  deny  myself  the  gratification  of 
supporting  this  connection  of  practical  heroism  with  previous 
habits  of  philosophic  thought,  by  a  singularly  appropriate  pas- 
sage from  an  author  whose  works  can  be  called  rare  only  from 
their  being,  I  fear,  rarely  read,  however  commonly  talked  of. 
It  is  the  instance  of  Xenophon  as  stated  by  Lord  Bacon,  who 
would  himself  furnish  an  equal  instance,  if  there  could  be  found 
an  equal  commentator. 

"  It  is  of  Xenophon  the  Philosopher,  who  went  from  Socra- 
tes's  School  into  Asia,  in  the  expedition  of  Cyrus  the  younger, 
against  King  Artaxerxes.  This  Xenophon,  at  that  time,  was 
very  young,  and  never  had  seen  the  wars  before  ;  neither  had 
any  command  in  the  army,  but  only  followed  the  war  as  a  vol- 
unteer, for  the  love  and  conversation  of  Proxenus,  his  friend. 
He  was  present  when  Falinus  came  in  message  from  the  king 


tence  of  Atheism,  at  Rome,  in  the  year  IGOO ;  and  of  his  works,  which  are 
perhaps  the  scarcest  books  ever  printed.  They  are  singularly  interesting  as 
portraits  of  a  vigorous  mind  struggling  after  truth,  amid  many  prejudices, 
which  from  the  state  of  the  Roman  Cliurch,  in  which  lie  was  born,  have  a 
claim  to  much  indulgence.  One  of  them  (entitled  Ember  Week)  is  curious 
for  its  lively-accounts  of  the  rude  state  of  London,  at  that  time,  both  as  to  the 
streets  and  the  manners  of  the  citizens.  The  most  industrious  Historians  of 
speculative  Philosophy,  have  not  been  able  to  procure  more  than  a  few  of 
his  works.  Accidentally  I  have  been  more  fortunate  in  this  respect,  than 
those  who  have  written  hitherto  on  the  unhappy  Philosopher  of  JVola:  as  out 
of  eleven  works,  the  titles  of  which  are  preserved  to  us,  I  have  had  an  op- 
portunity of  perusing  six.  I  was  told,  when  in  Germany,  that  there  is  a  com- 
plete collection  of  them  in  the  Royal  Library  at  Copenhagen.  If  so,  it  is 
unique. 

13 


98 

to  the  Grecians,  after  that  Cyrus  was  slain  in  the  Field,  and 
they,  a  handful  of  men,  left  to  themselves  in  the  midst  of  the 
King's  territories,  cut  off  from  their  country  by  many  navigable 
rivers,  and  many  hundred  miles.  The  message  imported,  that 
they  should  deliver  up  their  arms  and  submit  themselves  to  the 
King's  mercy.  To  v.'hich  message,  before  answer  was  made,  di- 
vers of  the  army  conferred  familiarly  with  Falinus,  and  amongst 
the  rest  Xenophon  happened  to  say  :  Why,  Falinus !  we  have 
now  but  two  things  left,  our  arms  and  our  virtue  ;  and  if  we 
yield  up  our  arms,  how  shall  we  make  use  of  our  virtue  ?  Where- 
to Falinus,  smiling  on  him,  said,  'If  I  be  not  deceived.  Young 
Gentleman,  you  are  an  Athenian,  and  I  believe,  you  study 
Philosophy,  and  it  is  pretty  that  you  say  ;  but  you  are  much 
abused,  if  you  think  your  virtue  can  withstand  the  King's  pow- 
er.' Here  was  the  scorn  :  the  wonder  followed — which  was, 
that  this  young  Scholar  or  Philosopher,  after  all  the  Captains 
were  murdered  in  parly,  by  treason,  conducted  those  ten  thou- 
sand foot  through  the  heart  of  all  the  King's  high  countries  from 
Babylon  to  Grecia,  in  safety,  in  despight  of  all  the  King's  forces, 
to  the  astonishment  of  the  world,  and  the  encouragement  of  the 
Grecians,  in  times  succeeding,  to  make  invasion  upon  the  kings 
of  Persia ;  as  was  after  purposed  by  Jason  the  Thessalian,  at- 
tempted by  Agesilaus  the  Spartan,  and  achieved  by  Alexander 
the  Macedonian,  all  upon  the  ground  of  the  act  of  that  young 
Scholar.^^ 

Often  have  I  reflected  with  awe  on  the  great  and  dispropor- 
tionate power,  which  an  individual  of  no  extraordinary  talents 
or  attainments  may  exert,  by  merely  throwing  off  all  restraint 
of  conscience.  What  then  must  not  be  the  power,  where  an 
individual,  of  consummate  wickedness,  can  organize  into  the 
unity  and  rapidity  of  an  individual  will  all  the  natural  and  arti- 
ficial forces  of  a  populous  and  wicked  nation  ?  And  could  we 
bring  within  the  field  of  imagination,  the  devastation  effected 
in  the  moral  world,  by  the  violent  removal  of  old  customs,  fa- 
miliar sympathies,  willing  reverences,  and  habits  of  subordina- 
tion almost  naturalized  into  instinct;  of  the  mild  influences  of 
reputation,  and  the  other  ordinary  props  and  aidances  of  our 
infirm  virtue,  or  at  least,  if  virtue  be  too  high  a  name,  of  our 
well-doing;  and  above  all,  if  we  could  give  form  and  body 
to  all  the  effects  produced  on  the  principles  and  dispositions  of 
nations  by  the  infectious  feelings  of  insecurity,  and  the  soul- 
sickening  sense  of  unsteadiness  in  the  whole   edifice    of  civil 


99 

society;  the  horrors  of  battle,  though  tlie  miseries  of  a  whole 
war  were  brought  together  before  our  eyes  in  one  disastrous  field, 
would  present  but  a  tame  tragedy  in  comparison.  Nay,  it  would 
even  present  a  sight  of  conifoit  and  of  elevation,  if  this  field 
of  carnage  were  the  sign  and  result  of  a  national  resolve,  of  a 
general  will,  so  to  die,  that  neither  deluge  nor  fire  should  take 
away  the  name  of  Country  from  their  graves,  rather  than  to 
tread  the  same  clods  of  earth,  no  longer  a  country,  and  them- 
selves alive  in  nature,  but  dead  in  infamy.  What  is  Greece  at 
this  present  moment  ?  It  is  the  country  of  the  Heroes  from 
Codrus  to  Philopsemen  ;  and  so  it  would  be,  though  all  the  sands 
of  Africa  should  cover  its  corn  fields  and  olive  gardens,  and 
not  a  flower  were  left  on  Hymettus  for  a  bee  to  murmur  in. 

If  then  the  power  with  which  wickedness  can  invest  the  hu- 
man being  be  thus  tremendous,  greatly  does  it  behove  us  to 
enquire  into  its  source  and  causes.  So  doing  we  shall  quickly 
discover  that  it  is  not  vice,  as  vice,  which  is  thus  mighty  ;  but 
systematic  vice!  Vice  self-consistent  and  entire;  crime  corres- 
ponding to  crime ;  villainy  entrenched  and  barricadoed  by  vil- 
lainy ;  this  is  the  condition  and  2iiain  constituent  of  its  power. 
The  abandonment  of  all  principle  of  right  enables  the  soul  to 
choose  and  act  upon  a  principle  of  wrong,  and  to  subordinate  to 
this  one  principle  all  the  various  vices  of  human  nature.  For 
it  is  a  mournful  truth,  that  as  devastation  is  incomparably  an 
easier  work  than  production,  so  may  all  its  means  and  instru- 
ments be  more  easily  arranged  into  a  scheme  and  system.  Even 
as  in  a  seige  every  building  and  garden,  which  the  faithful  go- 
vernor must  destroy,  as  impeding  the  defensive  means  of  the 
garrison,  or  furnishing  means  of  offence  to  the  besieger,  occa- 
sions a  wound  in  feelings  which  virtue  herself  has  fostered : 
and  virtue,  because  it  is  virtue,  loses  perforce  part  of  her  ener- 
gy in  the  reluctance  with  which  she  proceeds  to  a  business  so 
repugnant  to  her  wishes,  as  a  choice  of  evils.  But  He,  who 
has  once  said  with  his  whole  heart,  Evil,  be  thou  my  Good  !  has 
removed  a  world  of  obstacles  by  the  very  decision,  that  he  will 
have  no  obstacles  but  those  of  force  and  brute  matter.  The 
road  of  Justice 

"Curves  round  tho  coni-iiokl  and  the  hill  of  vines 
"Honoring  tho  holy  bounds  of  property! 

But  the  path  of  the  lightning  is  straight :  and  straight  the  fear- 
ful path 


100 

"Of  tlie  cannon-ball.     Direct  it  flies  and  raiiid 

"  Sliatt'ring  that  it  mmj  reach,  and  shatt'ring  what  it  reaches."* 

Happily  for  mankind,  however,  the  obstacles  which  a  consist- 
ently evil  mind  no  longer  finds  in  itself,  it  finds  in  its  own  un- 
suitableness  to  human  nature.  A  limit  is  fixed  to  its  power: 
but  within  that  limit,  both  as  to  the  extent  and  duration  of  its 
influence,  there  is  little  hope  of  checking  its  career,  if  giant 
and  united  vices  are  opposed  only  by  mixed  and  scattered  vir- 
tues :  and  those  too,  probably,  from  the  want  of  some  combining 
Principle,  which  assigns  to  each  its  due  place  and  rank,  at 
civil  war  with  themselves,  or  at  best  perplexing  and  counteract- 
ing each  other,  hi  our  late  agony  of  glory  and  of  peril,  did  we 
not  too  often  hear  even  good  men  declaiming  on  the  horrors  and 
crimes  of  war,  and  softening  or  staggering  the  minds  of  their 
brethren  by  details  of  individual  wretchedness  ?  Thus  under 
pretence  of  avoiding  blood,  they  were  withdrawing  the  will 
from  the  defence  of  the  very  source  of  those  blessings  without 
which  the  blood  would  flow  idly  in  our  veins  !  thus  lest  a  few 
should  fall  on  the  bulwarks  in  glory,  they  were  preparing  us  to 
give  up  the  whole  state  to  baseness,  and  the  children  of  free 
ancestors  to  become  slaves,  and  the  fathers  of  slaves  ! 

Machiavelli  has  well  observed,  "  Sono  di  tre  generasione  Cer- 
velli :  Vuno  intende  per  se  ;  Valtro  intende  quanta  da  altri  gli 
e  mostro  ;  il  terzo  non  intende  ne  per  se  stesso  neper  demostra- 
zione  d^altri.''^  "  There  are  brains  of  three  races.  The  one 
understands  of  itself;  the  second  understands  as  much  as  is 
shewn  it  by  others  ;  the  third  neither  understands  of  itself  nor 
what  is  shewn  it  by  others."  I  should  have  no  hesitation  in 
placing  that  man  in  the  third  Class  of  Brains,  for  whom  the 
History  of  the  last  twenty  years  has  not  supplied  a  copious 
comment  on  the  preceding  Text.  The  widest  maxims  of  pru- 
dence are  like  arms  W' ithout  hearts,  disjoined  from  those  feelings 
which  flow  forth  from  principtle  as  from  a  fountain.     So  little 

*Wallenstein,  from  Schiller,  by  S.  T.  Coleridge.  I  return  my  thanks  to 
the  unknown  Author  of  Waverly,  Guy  Manuering,  &:.c.,  for  having  quoted 
this  free  Translation  Iroin  Schiller's  best  ;and  therefore  most  neglected)  Drama 
with  applause :  and  am  not  ashamed  to  avow^,  that  I  have  derived  a  peculiar 
gratification,  that  the  first  men  of  our  age  have  united  in  giving  no  ordinary 
praise  to  a  work,  which  our  anonymous  critics  were  equally  unanimous  in 
abusing  as  below  all  criticism:  though  they  charitably  added,  that  the  fault 
was,  doubtless,  cliiefly  if  not  wholly,  in  the  Translator's  dullness  and  inca- 
pacity. 


101 

are  even  the  genuine  maxims  of  expedience  likely  to  be  per- 
ceived or  acted  upon  by  those  who  have  been  habituated  to  ad- 
mit nothing  higher  than  expedience,  that  I  dare  hazard  the  as- 
sertion, that  in  the  whole  Chapter-of-Contents  of  European 
Ruin,  every  article  might  be  unanswerably  deduced  from  the 
neglect  of  some  maxim  that  had  been  repeatedly  laid  down, 
demonstrated,  and  enforced  with  a  host  of  illustrations,  in  some 
one  or  other  of  the  works  of  Machiavelli,  Bacon,  or  Harring- 
ton.* Indeed  I  can  remember  no  one  event  of  importance 
which  was  not  distinctly  foretold,  and  this  not  by  a  lucky  prize 
drawn  among  a  thousand  blanks  out  of  the  lottery  wheel  of  con- 
jecture, but  legitimately  deduced  as  certain  consequences  from 
established  premises.  It  would  be  a  melancholy,  but  a  very 
profitable  employment,  for  some  vigorous  mind,  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  the  recent  history  of  Europe,  to  collect  the 
weightiest  Aphorisms  of  Machiavelli  alone,  and  illustrating  by 
appropriate  facts  the  breach  or  observation  of  each,  to  render 
less  mysterious  the  present  triumph  of  lawless  violence.  The 
apt  motto  to  such  a  work  would  be, — "  The  Children  of  Dark- 
ness are  wiser  in  their  Generation  than  the  Children  of  Light." 
So  grievously,  indeed,  have  men  been  deceived  by  the  showy 
mock  theories  of  unlearned  mock  thinkers,  that  there  seems  a 
tendency  in  the  public  mind  to  shun  all  thought,  and  to  expect 
help  from  any  quarter  rather  than  from  seriousness  and  reflec-  ] 
tion :  as  if  some  invisible  power  would  think  for  us,  when  we  / 
gave  up  the  pretence  of  thinking  for  ourselves.  But  in  the  1 
first  place,  did  those,  who  opposed  the  theories  of  invocators,  | 
conduct  their  untheoretic  opposition  with  more  wisdom  or  to  a/ 
happier  result  ?  And  secondly,  are  societies  now  constructed 
on  principles  so  few  and  so  simple,  that  we  could,  even  if  we 
wished  it,  act  as  it  were  by  instinct,  like  our  distant  Forefa- 
thers in  the  infancy  of  States  ?  Doubtless,  to  act  is  nobler  than 
to  think :  but  as  the  old  man  doth  not  become  a  child  by  means 
of  his  second  childishness,  as  little  can  a  nation  exempt  itself 
from  the  necessity  of  thinking,  which  has  once  learnt  to  think. 
Miserable  was  the  delusion  of  the  late  mad  Realizer  of  mad 
Dreams,  in  his  belief  that  he  should  ultimately  succeed  in  trans- 
forming the  nations  of  Europe  into  the  unreasoning  hordes  of  a 
Babylonian  or  Tartar  Empire,  or  even  in  reducing  the  age  to 
the  simplicity,  (so  desirable  for  tyrants)  of  those  times,  when 

*  See  The  Statesman's  Manual:  a  Lay  Sermon  by  the  Author. 


102 

the  sword  and  the  plough  were  the  sole  implements  of  human 
skill.  Those  are  epochs  in  the  history  of  a  people  which  hav- 
ing been  can  never  more  recur.  Extirpate  all  civilization  and 
all  its  arts  by  the  sword,  trample  down  all  ancient  Institutions, 
Rights,  Distinctions,  and  Privileges,  drag  us  backward  to  our 
old  Barbarism,  as  beasts  to  the  den  of  Cacus — deemed  you  that 
thus  you  could  re-create  the  unexamining  and  boisterous  youth 
of  the  world  when  the  sole  questions  were — "What  is  to  be 
conquered  ?  and  who  is  the  most  famous  leader  !" 

In  an  age  in  which  artificial  knowledge  is  received  almost 
at  the  birth,  intellect,  and  thought  alone  can  be  our  upholder 
and  judge.  Let  the  importance  of  this  Truth  procure  pardon 
for  its  repetition.  Only  by  means  of  seriousness  and  medita- 
tion and  the  free  infliction  of  censure  in  the  spirit  of  love,  can 
the  true  philanthropist  of  the  present  time,  curb-in  himself  and 
his  contemporaries ;  only  by  these  can  he  aid  in  preventing  the 
evils  which  threaten  us,  not  from  the  terrors  of  an  enemy  so 
much  as  from  our  fears  of  our  own  thoughts,  and  our  aversion 
to  all  the  toils  of  reflection  ?  For  all  must  now  be  taught  in 
sport — Science,  Morality,  yea.  Religion  itself.  And  yet  few 
now  sport  from  the  actual  impulse  of  a  believing  fancy  and  in 
a  happy  delusion.  Of  the  most  influensive  class,  at  least,  of 
our  literary  guides,  (the  anonymous  authors  of  our  periodical 
publications)  the  most  part  assume  this  character  from  cowar- 
dice or  malice,  till  having  begun  with  studied  ignorance  and  a 
premeditated  levity,  they  at  length  realize  the  lie,  and  end  in- 
deed in  a  pitiable  destitution  of  all  intellectual  power. 

To  many  I  shall  appear  to  speak  insolently,  because  the 
PUBLIC,  (for  that  is  the  phrase  which  has  succeeded  to  "The 
Towjv,"  of  the  wits  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second) — the 
public  is  at  present  accustomed  to  find  itself  appealed  to  as  the 
infallible  Judge,  and  each  reader  complimented  with  excellen- 
cies, which  if  he  really  possessed,  to  what  purpose  is  he  a 
reader,  unless,  perhaps,  to  remind  himself  of  his  own  superiori- 
ty !  I  confess  that  I  think  widely  difl"erent.  I  have  not  a  deep- 
er conviction  on  earth,  than  that  the  principles  both  of  Taste, 
Morals,  and  Religion,  which  are  taught  in  the  commonest  books 
of  recent  composition,  are  false,  injurious,  and  debasing.  If 
these  sentiments  should  be  just,  the  consequences  must  be  so 
important,  that  every  well-educated  man,  who  professes  them 
in  sincerity,  deserves  a  patient  hearing.     He  may  fairly  appeal 


103 

even  to  those  whose  persuasions  are  most  opposed  to  his  own, 
in  the  words  of  the  Philosopher  of  Nola :  "  Ad  ist  hoec  qiicBso 
vos,  qnaliacunquc  primo  videantur  aspectu^  adtendife,  ut  qui 
vobis  forsan  insanire  videar,  saltern  qiiibus  insaniamrationibus 
cognoscatis.^^  What  I  feel  deeply,  freely  will  I  utter.  Truth 
is  not  detraction  ;  and  assuredly  we  do  not  hate  him,  to  whom 
we  tell  the  Truth.  But  with  whomsoever  we  play  the  deceiv- 
er and  flatterer,  him  at  the  bottom  we  despise.  We  are,  in 
deed,  under  a  necessity  to  conceive  a  vileness  in  him,  in  or- 
der to  diminish  the  sense  of  the  wrong  we  have  committed,  by 
the  worthlessness  of  the  object. 

Through  no  excess  of  confidence  in  the  strength  of  my  tal- 
ents, but  with  the  deepest  assurance  of  the  justice  of  my  cause, 
I  bid  defiance  to  all  the  flatterers  of  the  folly  and  foolish  self- 
opinion  of  the  half-instructed  Many ;  to  all  who  fill  the  air  with 
festal  explosions  and  false  fires  sent  up  against  the  lightnings 
of  Heaven,  in  order  that  the  people  may  neither  distinguish 
the  warning  Flash  nor  hear  the  threatening  thunder !  How  re- 
cently did  we  stand  alone  in  the  word  ?  And  though  the  one 
storm  has  blown  over,  another  may  even  now  be  gathering  : 
or  haply  the  hollow  murmur  of  the  Earthquake  within  the 
Bowels  of  our  own  Commonweal  may  strike  a  direr  terror  than 
ever  did  the  Tempest  of  foreign  Warfare.  Therefore,  though 
the  first  quatrain  is  no  longer  applicable,  yet  the  moral  truth 
and  the  sublime  exhortation  of  the  following  Sonnet  can  never 
be  superannuated.  With  it  I  conclude  this  Number,  thanking 
Heaven  !  that  I  have  communed  with,  honored,  and  loved  its 
wise  and  high-minded  author.  To  know  that  such  men  are 
among  us,  is  of  itself  an  antidote  against  despondence. 

Another  year  ! — another  deadly  blow ! 

Another  mighty  Empire  overtlu-own ! 

And  we  are  left,  or  shall  be  left,  alone  ; 

The  last  that  dares  to  struggle  with  the  Foe. 

'Tis  well !  from  this  day  forward  we  shall  know       !  ^  ' 

That  in  oiu-selves  our  safety  must  be  sought; 

That  by  oiu'  own  right  hands  it  must  be  wrought ; 

That  we  must  stand  unpropt  or  be  laid  low. 

O  Dastard!  whom  such  foretaste  doth  not  cheer! 

We  shall  exidt,  if  They,  who  rule  the  land, 

Be  Men  who  hold  its  many  blessings  dear. 

Wise,  u[)right,  valiant ;  not  a  venal  Band, 

Who  are  to  judge  of  danger  which  they  fear, 

And  honour,  which  they  do  not  understand.        Wordsworth. 


THE 

LANDING-PLACE: 

OR 

ESSAYS 

INTERPOSED 

FOR    AMUSEMENT,    RETROSPECT, 

AND 
PREPARATION. 


MISCELLANY  THE  FIRST. 


Etiairi  a  musis  si  qimndo  animuin  paulisper  abducanms,  ajjud  Musas  nibil- 
ominue  feriamur :  at  reclines  quidcm,  at  otioeas,  at  de  his  et  illis  inter  se  li- 
bere  colloquentee. 


14 


ESSAY  I. 


O  blessed  Letters !  that  combine  in  one 
All  ages  past,  and  make  one  live  with  all : 
By  you  we  do  confer  with  who  are  gone 
And  the  Dead-living  unto  Council  call! 
By  you  the  Unborn  shall  have  communion 
Of  what  we  feel  and  what  doth  us  befall. 

Since  Writings  are  the  Veins,  the  Arteries, 
And  undecaying  Life-strings  of  those  Hearts, 
That  still  shall  pant  and  still  shall  exercise 
Their  mightiest  powers  when  Nature  none  imparts: 
And  the  strong  constitution  of  their  Praise 
Wear  out  the  infection  of  distemper'd  days. 

Daniel's  Musophilus. 


The  Intelligence,  which  produces  or  controls  human  actions 
and  occurrences,  is  often  represented  by  the  Mystics  under  the 
name  and  notion  of  the  supreme  Harmonist.  I  do  not  myself 
approve  of  these  metaphors:  they  seem  to  imply  a  restlessness 
to  understand  that  which  is  not  among  the  appointed  objects  of 
our  comprehension  or  discursive  faculty.  But  certainly  there 
is  one  excellence  in  good  music,  to  which,  without  mysticism,  ly^ 
we  may  find  or  make  an  analogy  in.  the  records  of  History.  I 
allude  to  that  sense  of  recognition^  whTch  accompanies  our 
sense  of  novelty  in  the  most  original  passages  of  a  great  com- 
poser. If  we  listen  to  a  Symphony  of  Cimarosa,  the  present 
strain  still  seems  not  only  to  recal,  but  almost  to  renew^  some  past 
movement,  another  and  yet  the  same  !  Each  present  movement 
bringing  back,  as  it  were,  and  embodying  the  spirit  of  some 
lijelody  that  had  gone  before,  anticipates  and  seems  trying  to 
■overtake  something  that  is  to  come  :  and  the  musician  has 
reached  the  summit  of  his  art,   when  having  thus  modified  the 


108 

Present  by  the  Past,  he  at  the  same  time  weds  the  Past  in  the 
Present  to  some  prepared  and  corresponsive  Future.  The  audi- 
tor's thoughts  and  feelings  move  under  the  same  influence  :  re- 
trospection blends  with  anticipation,  and  Hope  and  Memory  (a 
female  Janus)  become  one  power  with  a  double  aspect.  A  simi- 
lar effect  the  reader  may  produce  for  himself  in  the  pages  of  His- 
tory, if  he  will  be  content  to  substitute  an  intellectual  compla- 
V^  cency  for  pleasurable  sensation.  /-The  events  and  characters  of 
one  age,  like  the  strains  in  music,  recal  those  of  another,  and 
the  variety  by  which  each  is  individualized,  not  only  gives  a 
charm  and  poignancy  to  the  resemblance,  but  likewise  renders 
the  whole  more  intelligiblej  Meantime  ample  room  is  afforded 
for  the  exercise  both  of  the  judgment  and  the  fancy,  in  distin- 
guishing cases  of  real  resemblance  from  those  of  intentional 
imitation,  the  analogies  of  nature,  revolving  upon  herself,  from 
the  masquerade  ligures  of  cunning   and  vanity. 

It  is  not  from  identity  of  opinions,  or  from  similarity  of  events 
and  outward  actions,  that  a  real  resemblance  in  the  radical  char- 
acter can  be  deduced.  |fOn  the  contrary,  men  of  great  and  stir- 
ring powers,  who  are  destined  to  mould  the  age  in  which  they 
are  born,  must  first  mould  themselves  upon  it^  Mahomet  born 
twelve  centuries  later,  and  in  the  heart  of  Europe,  would  not 
have  been  a  false  Prophet ;  nor  would  a  false  Prophet  of  the 
present  generation  have  been  a  Mahomet  in  the  sixth  century. 
I  have  myself,  therefore,  derived  the  deepest  interest  from  the 
comparison  of  men,  whose  characters  at  the  first  view  appear 
widely  dissimilar,  who  yet  have  produced  similar  effects  on 
their  different  ages,  and  this  by  the  exertion  of  powers  which 
on  examination  will  be  lound  far  more  alike,  than  the  altered 
drapery  and  costume  would  have  led  us  to  suspect.  Of  the 
heirs  of  fame  few  are  more  respected  by  me,  though  for  very 
different  qualities,  than  Erasipus  and  Luther  :  scarcely  any  one 
has  a  larger  share  of  my  aversion  than  Voltaire  ;  and  even  of 
the  better-hearted  Rousseau  I  was  never  more  than  a  very 
lukewarm  admirer.  I  should  perhaps  too  rudely  afl'ront  the 
general  opinion,  if  I  avowed  my  whole  creed  concerning  the 
proportions  of  real  talent  between  the  two  purifiers  of  revealed 
Religion,  now  neglected  as  obsolete,  and  the  two  modern  con- 
spnators  against  its  authority,  who  are  still  the  Alpha  and  Ome- 
ga of  Continental  Genius.  Yet  when  I  abstract  the  questions  of 
evil  and  good,   and  measure  only  the  effects  produced  and  the 


109 

mode  of  producing  them,  I  have  repeatedly  found  the  idea  of 
Voltaire,  Rosseau,  and  Robespierre,  recal  in  a  similar  cluster 
and  connection  that  of  Erasmus,  Luther,  and  Munster. 

Those  who  are  familiar  with  the  works  of  I^jcasmus,  and  who 
know  the  influence  of  his  wit,  as  the  pioneer  of  the  reformation  ; 
and  who  likewise  know,  that  by   his  wit,  added  to  the  vast  va- 
riety of  knowledge  communicated  in  his   works,   he  had  won 
over  by  anticipation  so  large  a  part  of  the  polite   and   lettered 
world  to  the  Protestant  party  ;  will  be  at  no  loss  in  discovering 
the  intended  counterpart  in  the  life  and  writings  of  the  veteran 
Frenchman,  ^hey   will  see,  indeed,  that  the  knowledge   of 
the  one  was  solid   through  its  whole    extent,   and  that   of  the 
other  extensive  at  a   cheap  rate,  by   its  superficiality  ;  that  the 
wit  of  the  one  is  always  bottomed  on  sound  sense,  peoples  and 
enriches  the  mind  of  the   reader  with  an   endless  variety  of 
distinct    images    and   living  interests :    and    that    his    broadest 
laughter  is  every  where   translatable  into  grave  and   weighty 
truth ;  while  the  wit  of  the  Frenchman,  without  imagery,  with- 
out character,  and  without  that  pathos  which   gives  the   magic 
charm  to  genuine  humor,  consists,  when  it   is  most  perfect,  in 
happy  turns  of  phrase,  but  far  too  often   in  fantastic    incidents, 
outrages   of  the  pure  imagination,   and  the  poor  low   trick  of 
combining  the  ridiculous  with  the   venerable,   where  he,   who 
does  not  laugh,  abhorSy     Neither  will  they  have  forgotten,  that 
the  object  of  the  one  was    to  drive  the  thieves  and  mummers 
out    of  the   temple,   while  the   other  was  propelling  a  worse 
banditti,  first  to  profane  and  pillage,  and   ultimately  to  raze  it. 
Yet  not  the  less  will  they  perceive,  that  the  effects  remain  par- 
allel,  the  circumstances   analagous,   and  the   instruments   the 
same.     In  each  case  the  effects  extended  over  Europe,  were  at- 
tested and  augmented  by  the  praise  and   patronage  of  thrones 
and  dignities,  and  are  not  to  be  explained  but  by  extraordinary 
industry  and  a  life   of  literature  ;  in  both  instances  the  circum- 
stances were  supplied  by  an   age   of  hopes   and   promises — the 
ase  of  Erasmus  restless  from  the  first  vernal  influences  of  real 
knowledge,  that  of  Voltaire  from   the  bectic  of  imagined  supe- 
riority.    In  the  voluminous  works  of  both,  the  instruments  cm- 
ployed  are  chiefly  those  of  wit  and  amusive  erudition,  and  alike 
in  both  the  errors  and  evils  (real  or  imputed)  in  Religion  and 
Politics  are  the   objects  of  the   battery.     And    here  we    must 
stop.     The    two    Men    were  esseniially  different.     Exchange 


110 

mutually  their  dates  and  spheres  of  action,  yet  Voltaire,  had  he 
been  ten-fold  a  Voltaire,  could  not  have  made  up  an  Erasmus  ; 
and  Erasmus  must  have  emptied  himself  of  half  his  greatness  and 
all  his  goodness,  to  have  become  a  Voltaire. 

Shall  we  succeed  better  or  worse  with  the  next  pair,  in   this 
our  new  dance  of  death,  or  rather   of  the   shadows  which   we 
have  brought  forth — two   by  two — from   the  historic  ark  ?     In 
our  first  couple  we  have  at  least  secured  an  honorable  retreat, 
and  though  we  failed  as  to  the  agents,  we   have   maintained  a 
fair  analogy  in  the   actions  and  the    objects.     But   the   heroic 
Luther,  a    Giant    awaking    in    his  strength !    and    the    crazy 
Rousseau,  the  Dreamer  of  love-sick  Tales,   and   the  spinner 
of  speculative  Cobwebs;  shy  of  light  as  the  Mole,  but  as  quick- 
eared  too  for  every  whisper  of  the  public  opinion  ;  the  Teacher 
of  stoic  Pride  in  his  principles,  yet  the  victim  of  morbid  Vani- 
ty in  his  feelings  and   conduct.     From   what  point   of  likeness 
can  we   commence   the  comparison  between   a  Luther   and   a 
Rousseau?     And  truly  had  1  been  seeking  for   characters  that, 
taken  as  they  really  existed,  closely  resemble   each  other,  and 
this  too  to  our  first  apprehensions,  and   according  to   the    com- 
mon rules  of  biographical   comparison,  I    could    scarcely  have 
made  a  more  unlucky    choice  :   unless   I   had  desired   that  my 
parallel  of  the  German  "  Son  of  Thunder"  and  the  Visionary  of 
Geneva,  should  sit  on  the  same  bench   with  honest   Fluellin's 
of  Alexander  the  Great  and  Harry   of  Monmouth.     Still,  how- 
ever, the  same  analogy  would  hold    as  in   m}'  former  instance  : 
the  effects  produced  on  their  several  ages  by  Luther  and  Rous- 
seau, were  commensurate  with  each  other,  and  were  produced 
in  both  cases  by    (what  their  contemporaries   felt   as)   serious 
and  vehement  eloquence,  and  an  elevated    tone  of  moral   feel- 
ing :   and   Luther,  not  less  than  Rousseau,  was    actuated  by  an 
almost  superstitious  hatred  of  superstition,  and  a  turbulent  pre- 
judice against  prejudices.     In  the  relation  too  which  their  wri- 
tings severally  bore  to  those  of  Erasmus  and  Voltaire,  and  the 
way  in    which   the   latter  co-operated   with   them   to  the  same 
general  end,  each  finding   its  own   class  of  admirers  and  Prose- 
lytes, tiie  parallel  is  complete. 

I  cannot,  however,  rest  here  !  Spite  of  the  apparent  incon- 
gruities, I  am  disposed  to  plead  for  a  resemblance  in  the  Men 
themselves,  for  that  similarity  in  their  radical  natures,  which 
I  abandoned  all  pretence  and  desire  of  shewing  in  the  instances 


Ill 

of  Voltaire  and  Erasmus.  But  then  my  readers  must  think  of 
Luther  not  as  he  really  was,  but  as  he  might  have  been,  if  he 
had  been  born  in  the  age  and  under  the  circumstances  of  the 
Swiss  Philosopher.  For  this  purpose  I  must  strip  him  of  many 
advantages  which  he  derived  from  his  own  times,  and  must 
contemplate  him  in  his  natural  weaknesses  as  well  as  in  his 
original  strength.  Each  referred  all  things  to  his  own  ideal. 
The  ideal  was  indeed  widely  different  in  the  one  and  in  the 
other  :  and  this  was  not  the  least  of  Luther's  many  advantages, 
or  (to  use  a  favorite  phrase  of  his  own)  not  one  of  his  least 
favors  of  preventing  grace.  Happily  for  him  he  had  derived 
his  standard  from  a  common  measure  already  received  by  the 
good  and  wise  :  I  mean  the  inspired  writings,  the  study  of 
which  Erasmus  had  previously  restored  among  the  learned. 
To  know  that  we  are  in  sympathy  with  others,  moderates  our 
feelings,  as  well  as  strengthens  our  convictions :  and  for  the 
mind,  which  opposes  itself  to  the  faith  of  the  multitude,  it  is 
more  especially  desirable,  that  there  should  exist  an  object  out 
of  itself,  on  which  it  may  fix  its  attention,  and  thus  balance  its 
own  energies. 

Rousseau,  on  the  contrary  in  the  inauspicious  spirit  of  his  age 
and  birth-place,*  had  slipped  the  cable  of  his  faith,  and  steer- 
ed by  the  compass  of  unaided  reason,  ignorant  of  the  hidden 
currents  that  were  bearing  him  out  of  his  course,  and  too  proud 
to  consult  the  faithful  charts  prized  and  held  sacred  by  his 
forefathers.  But  the  strange  influences  of  his  bodily  tempera- 
ment on  his  understanding ;  his  constitutional  melancholy  pam- 
pered into  a  morbid  excess  by  solitude ;  his  wild  dreams  of 
suspicion ;  his  hypochondriacal  fancies  of  hosts  of  conspirators 
all  leagued  against  him  and  his  cause,  and  headed  by  some 
arch-enemy,  to  whose  machinations  he  attributed  every  trifling 
mishap,  (all  as  much  the  creatures  of  his  imagination,  as  if  in- 
stead of  Men  he  had  conceived  them  to  be  infernal  Spirits  and 
Beings  preternatural) — these,  or  at  least  the  predisposition  to 
them,  existed  in  the  ground-work   of  his  nature :  they  were 

*  Injfidelity  was  so  common  in  Geneva  about  that  time,  that  Voltaire  in  one 
of  his  Letters  exults,  that  in  this,  Calvin's  own  City,  some  half  dozen  on- 
ly of  the  most  ignorant  believed  in  Christianity  under  any  form.  This  was, 
no  doubt,  one  of  Voltaire's  usual  lies  of  exag-geration :  it  is  not  however  to 
be  denied,  that  here,  and  throughout  Switzerland,  he  and  the  dark  Master  in 
whose  service  he  employed  himself,  had  ample  grounds  of  triumph. 


112 

parts  of  Rousseau  himself.  And  what  corresponding  in  kind 
to  these,  not  to  speak  of  degree,  can  we  detect  in  the  character 
of  his  supposed  parallel  ?  This  difficulty  will  suggest  itself  at 
the  first  thought,  to  those  who  derive  all  their  knowledge  of 
Luther  from  the  meagre  biography  met  with  in  "  The  Lives  of 
eminent  Reformers,"  or  even  from  the  ecclesiastical  Histories 
of  Mosheim  or  Milner :  for  a  life  of  Luther,  in  extent  and  style 
of  execution  proportioned  to  the  grandeur  and  interest  of  the 
subject,  a  Life  of  the  Mati  Luther,  as  well  as  of  Luther  the 
Theologian,  is  still  a  desideratum  in  English  Literature,  though 
perhaps  there  is  no  subject  for  which  so  many  unused  materi- 
als are  extant,  both  printed  and  in  manuscript.* 


*The  affectionate  respect  in  which  I  hold  the  name  of  Dr.  Joitin  (one  of 
the  many  ilkistrious  Nurslings  of  the  College  to  which  I  deem  it  no  small 
honor  to  have  belonged — Jesus,  Cambridge)  renders  it  painfid  to  me  to  assert, 
that  the  above  remark  holds  almost  equally  true  of  a  Life  of  Erasmus.  But 
every  Scholai*  well  read  in  the  writings  of  Erasmus  and  his  illustrious  Con- 
temporaries, must  have  discovered,  that  Jortin  had  neither  collected  sufficient, 
nor  the  best,  materials  for  his  work :  and  (perhaps  from  that  very  cause)  he 
grew  weary  of  his  task,  before  he  had  made  a  flill  use  of  the  scanty  materi- 
als which  ho  had  collected. 


ESSAY   IT. 


Is  it,  I  ask,  most  important  to  the  best  interests  of  Mankind,  temporal  as 
well  as  spiritual,  tliat  certain  Works,  the  names  and  number  of  which  are 
fixed  and  unalterable,  should  be  distinguished  from  all  other  Works,  not 
in  a  degree  only  but  even  in  kind'}  And  that  these,  collectively  should  form 
THE  Book,  to  which  in  all  the  concerns  of  Faith  and  Morality  the  last  re- 
course is  to  be  made,  and  from  the  decisions  of  which  no  man  dare  appeal? 
If  the  mere  existence  of  a  Book  so  called  and  charactered  be,  as  the  Koran 
itself  suffices  to  evince,  a  mighty  Bond  of  Union,  among  nations  whom  all 
other  causes  tend  to  separate ;  if  moreover  the  Book  revered  by  us  and  our 
forefathers  has  been  the  Foster-nurse  of  Learning  in  the  darkest,  and  of 
Civilization  in  the  rudest,  times;  and  lastly,  if  this  so  vast  and  wide  a  Bless- 
ing is  not  to  be  founded  in  a  Delusion,  and  doomed  therefore  to  the  Im- 
permanence  and  Scorn  in  which  sooner  or  later  all  delusions  must  end ; 
how,  I  i)ray  you,  is  it  conceivable  that  this  should  be  brought  about  and  se- 
cured, otherwise  than  by  a  special  vouchsafement  to  this  one  Book,  exclti- 
sively,  of  that  Divine  Mean,  that  uniform  and  perfect  middle  way,  which  in  all 
points  is  at  safe  and  equal  distance  from  all  errors  whether  of  excess  or  de- 
fect ?  But  again  if  this  be  true,  (and  what  Protestant  christian  worthy  of  his 
baptismal  dedication  will  deny  its  truth)  surely  we  ought  not  to  be  hard  and 
over-stern  in  our  censures  of  the  mistakes  and  infirmities  of  those,  who  pre- 
tending to  no  wan-ant  of  extraordinaiy  Inspiration  have  j^et  been  raised  up- 
by  God's  providence  to  be  of  highest  power  and  eminence  in  the  reformation 
of  his  Church.  Far  rather  does  it  behove  us  to  consider,  in  how  many  in- 
stances the  peccant  humor  native  to  the  man  had  been  wi'ought  upon  by  the 
faithful  study  of  that  only  faultless  Model,  and  corrected  into  an  unsinning, 
or  at  least  a  venial,  Predominance  in  the  Writer  or  Preacher.  Yea,  that  not 
seldom  the  Infirmity  of  a  zealous  Soldier  in  the  Warfare  of  Christ  has  been 
made  the  very  mould  and  ground-work  of  that  man's  peculiar  gifts  and  vir- 
tues. Grateful  too  we  should  be,  that  the  very  Faults  of  famous  Men  have 
been  fitted  to  the  age,  on  which  they  were  to  act:  and  that  thus  the  folly  of 
man  has  proved  the  wisdom  of  God,  and  been  made  the  instrument  of  his 
mercy  to  mankind.  Ajvon. 


Whoever  has  sojourned  in  Eisenach,*  will   assuredly  have 

*D»n-chflage  durch  Deutchland,  die  Niederlande  und  Frankreich  :  zweit. — 
Theil.  1).  iQa 

15 


114 

visited  the  Warteburg,  interesting  by  so  many  historical  asso- 
ciations, which  stands  on  a  high  rock,  about  two  miles  to  the 
south  from  the  City  Gate.  To  this  Castle  Luther  was  taken  on 
his  return  from  the  imperial  diet,  where  Charles  the  Fifth  had 
pronounced  the  ban  upon  him,  and  limited  his  safe  convoy  to  one 
and  twenty  days.  On  the  last  but  one  of  these  days,  as  he  was 
on  his  way  to  Waltershausen  (a  town  in  the  dutchy  of  Saxe 
Gotha,  a  few  leagues  to  the  south-east  of  Eisenach)  he  was 
stopped  in  a  hollow  behind  the  Castle  Altenstein,  and  carried 
to  the  Warteburg.  The  Elector  of  Saxony,  who  could  not 
have  refused  to  deliver  up  Luther,  as  one  put  in  the  ban  by  the 
Emperor  and  the  Diet,  had  ordered  John  of  Berleptsch  the 
governor  of  the  Warteburg  and  Burckhardt  von  Hundt,  the 
governor  of  Altenstein,  to  take  Luther  to  one  or  the  other 
of  these  Castles,  without  acquainting  him  which  ;  in  order  that 
he  might  be  able,  with  safe  conscience,  to  declare,  that  he  did 
not  know  where  Luther  was.  Accordingly  they  took  him  to  the 
Warteburg,  under  the  name  of  the  Chevalier  (Ritter)  George. 

To  this  friendly  imprisonment  the  reformation  owes  many  of 
Luther's  most  important  labours.  In  this  place  he  wrote  his 
works  against  auricular  confession,  against  Jacob  Latronum,the 
tract  on  the  abuse  of  Masses,  that  against  clerical  and  monastic 
vows,  composed  his  Exposition  of  the  22,  27,  and  68  Psalms, 
finished  his  Declaration  of  the  Magnificat,  began  to  write  his 
Church  Homilies,  and  translated  the  New  Testament.  Here 
too,  and  during  this  time,  he  is  said  to  have  hurled  his  ink-stand 
at  tlie  Devil,  the  black  spot  from  which  yet  remains  on  the  stone 
wall  of  the  room  he  studied  in  ;  which  surely,  no  one  will  have 
visited  the  Warteburg  without  having  had  pointed  out  to  him  by 
the  good  Catholic  who  is,  or  at  least  some  few  years  ago  was, 
the  Warden  of  the  Castle.  He  must  have  been  either  a  very 
supercilious  or  a  very  incurious  traveller  if  he  did  not,  for  the 
gratification  of  his  guide  at  least,  inform  himself  by  means  of 
his  pen-knife,  that  the  said  marvellous  blot  bids  defiance  to  all 
the  toils  of  the  scrubbing  brush,  and  is  to  remain  a  sign  for 
ever ;  and  with  this  advantage  over  most  of  its  kindred,  that 
being  capable  of  a  double  interpretation,  it  is  equally  flattering 
to  the  Protestant  and  the  Papist,  and  is  regarded  by  the  won- 
der-loving zealots  of  both  parties,  with  equal  faith. 

Whether  the  great  man  ever  did   throw  his  ink-stand  at  his 
Satanic  Majesty,  whetiicr  he  ever  boasted  of  the  exploit,  and 


115 

himself  declared  the  dark  blotch  on  his  Study-Wall  in  the 
VVarteburg,  to  be  the  result  and  relict  of  this  author-like  hand- 
grenado,  (happily  for  mankind  he  used  his  ink-stand  at  other 
times  to  better  purpose,  and  with  more  effective  hostility  against 
the  arch-fiend)  I  leave  to  ray  reader's  own  judgment  ;  on  con- 
dition, however,  that  he  has  previously  perused  Lutlicr's  table- 
talk,  and  other  writings  of  the  same  stamp,  of  some  of  his  most 
illustrious  contemporaries,  which  contain  facts  still  more  strange 
and  whimsical,  related  by  themselves  and  of  themselves,  and 
accompanied  with  solemn  protestations  of  the  Truth  of  their 
statements.  Luther's  table-talk,  which  to  a  truly  philosophic 
mind,  will  not  be  less  interesting  than  Rousseau's  confessions, 
I  have  not  myself  the  means  of  consulting  at  present,  and  can- 
not therefore  say,  whether  this  ink-pot  adventure  is,  or  is  not, 
told  or  referred  to  in  it ;  but  many  considerations  incline  rac  to 
give  credit  to  the  story. 

Luther's  unremitting  literary  labor  and  his  sedentary  mode  of 
life,  during  his  confinement  in  the  Warteburg,  where  he  was 
treated  with  the  greatest  kindness,  and  enjoyed  every  liberty 
consistent  with  his  own  safety,  had  begun  to  undermine  his  for- 
mer unusually  strong  health.  He  suffered  many  and  most  dis- 
tressing effects  of  indigestion  and  a  deranged  state  of  the  di- 
gestive organs.  Melancthon,  whom  he  had  desired  to  consult 
the  Physicians  at  Erfurth,  sent  him  some  de-obstruent  medi- 
cines, and  the  advice  to  take  regular  and  severe  exercise.  At 
first  he  followed  the  advice,  sate  and  laboured  less,  and  spent 
whole  days  in  the  chase  ;  but  like  the  younger  Pliny,  he  strove 
in  vain  to  form  a  taste  for  this  favorite  amusement  of  the  "  Gods 
of  the  earth,"  as  appears  from  a  passage  in  a  letter  to  George 
Spalatin,  which  I  translate  for  an  additional  reason  :  to  prove 
to  the  admirers  of  Rousseau,  (who  perhaps  will  not  be  less  af- 
fronted by  this  biographical  parallel,  than  the  zealous  Luther- 
ans will  be  offended)  that  if  my  comparison  should  turn  out 
groundless  on  the  whole,  the  failure  will  not  have  arisen  either 
from  the  want  of  sensibility  in  our  great  reformer,  or  of  angry 
aversion  to  those  in  high  places,  whom  he  regarded  as  the  op- 
pressors of  their  rightful  equals.  "  I  have  been,"  he  writes, 
"  employed  for  two  days  in  the  sports  of  the  field,  and  was  wil- 
ling myself  to  taste  this  bitter-sweet  amusement  of  the  great 
heroes  :  we  have  caught  two  hares,  and  one  brace  of  poor  lit- 
tle partridges.  An  employment  this  which  does  not  ill  suit 
quiet  leisurely  folks  :  for   even  in   the  midst  of  the  ferrets  and 


116 

dogs,  I  have  had  theological  fancies.     But  as  much  pleasure  as 
the  general  appearance  of  the  scene  and   the  mere  looking  on 
occasioned  me,  even  so  much  it  pitied  me  to  think  of  the  mys- 
tery and  emblem  which  lies   beneath   it.     For   what  does  this 
symbol  signify,  but   that  the   Devil,  through  his  godless  hunts- 
man and  dogs,  the  Bishops  and  Theologians  to  wit,  doth  privily 
chase  and  catch  the  innocent  poor  little  beasts  ?  Ah  !  the  simple 
and  credulous  souls  came  thereby  far  too  plain  before  my  eyes. 
Thereto  comes  a  yet  more  frightful  mystery  :  as  at  my  earnest 
entreaty  we  had  saved  alive  one  poor  little  hare,  and  I  had  con- 
cealed it  in  the  sleeve  of  my  great  coat,  and   had  strolled  off  a 
short  distance  from  it,  the  dogs  in  the  mean  time  found  the  poor 
hare.     Such,  too,  is  the  fury  of  the    Pope  with    Satan,  that  he 
destroys  even  the  souls  that  had  been  saved,  and  troubles  him- 
self little  about  my  pains  and  entreaties.     Of  such  hunting  then 
I  have  had  enough."     In  another  passage   he  tells   his  corres- 
pondent, "you  know  it  is  hard  to  be  a  Prince,  and  not  in  some 
degree  a  Robber,  and  the  greater  a  Prince  the  more  a  Robber." 
Of  our  Henry  the  Eighth,  he   says,  "  I   must  answer  the  grim 
Lion  that  passes  himself  oft"  for   King  of  England.     The  igno- 
rance in  the  Book  is  such  as  one  naturally  expects  from  a  King  ; 
but  the  bitterness  and  impudent  falsehood  is   quite  leonine." 
And  in  his  circular   letter  to  the   Princes,  on   occasion   of  the 
Peasant's  War,  he  uses  a  language  so  inflammatory,  and   holds 
forth  a  doctrine  which  borders  so  near  on  the  holy  right  of  in- 
surrection, that  it  may  as  well  remain  untranslated. 

Had  Luther  been  himself  a  Prince,  he  could  not  have  de- 
sired better  treatment  than  he  received  during  his  eight  months 
stay  in  the  Warteburg  ;  and  in  consequence  of  a  more  luxuri- 
ous diet  than  he  had  been  accustomed  to,  he  was  plagued  with 
temptations  both  from  the  "Flesh  and  the  Devil."  It  is  evi- 
dent from  his  letters*  that  he  suffered  under  great  irritability 
of  his  nervous  system,  the  common  effect  of  deranged  digestion 
in  men  of  sedentary  habits,  who  are  at  the  same  time  intense 
thinkers :  and   this  irritability  added  to,  and  revivifying,  the 

*  I  can  scarcely  conceive  a  more  delightful  Volume  than  might  be  made 
from  Luther's  Letters,  especially  from  those  that  were  written  from  the  War- 
teburg, if  they  were  translatedin  the  simple,  sinewy,  idiomatic,  Aear/?/  mother- 
tongue  of  the  original,  A  difficult  task  I  admit — and  scarcely  possible  for  any 
man,  however  great  hie  talents  in  other  respects,  whose  favorite  reading  has 
not  lain  among  the  English  writers  from  Edward  the  Sixth  to  Charles  the 
FiiTst. 


117 

impressions  made  upon  him  in  early  life,  and  fostered  by  the 
theological  systems  of  his  manhood,  is  abundantly  sutficient  to 
explain  all  his  apparitions  and  all  his  nightly  combats  with 
evil  spirits.  I  see  nothing  improbable  in  the  supposition,  that 
in  one  of  those  unconscious  half  sleeps,  or  rather  those  rapid 
alternations  of  the  sleeping  Avith  the  half-waking  state,  which 
is  the  true  icitching  time, 

• "  the  season 


Wherein  tlie  spirits  hold  their  wont  to  walk," 

the  fruitful  matrix  of  Ghosts — I  see  nothing  improbable,  that 
in  some  one  of  those  momentary  slumbers,  into  which  the  sus- 
pension of  all  Thought  in  the  perplexity  of  intense  thinking  so 
often  passes ;  Luther  should  have  had  a  full  view  of  the  Room 
in  which  he  was  sitting,  of  his  writting  Table  and  all  the  Im- 
plements of  Study,  as  they  really  existed,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  brain-image  of  the  Devil,  vivid  enough  to  have  acquired 
apparent  Outness,  and  a  distance  regulated  by  the  proportion 
of  its  distinctness  to  that  of  the  objects  really  impressed  on  the 
outward  senses. 

If  this  Christian  Hercules,  this  heroic  Cleanser  of  the  Au- 
gean Stable  of  Apostaey,  had  been  born  and  educated  in  the 
present  or  the  preceding  generation,  he  would,  doubtless,  have 
held  himself  for  a  man  of  genius  and  original  power.  But 
with  this  faith  alone  he  would  scarcely  have  removed  the 
mountains  which  he  did  remove.  The  darkness  and  super- 
stition of  the  age,  which  required  such  a  Reformer,  had  mould- 
ed his  mind  for  the  reception  of  ideas  concerning  himself,  bet- 
ter suited  to  inspire  the  strength  and  enthusiasm  necessary  for 
the  task  of  reformation,  ideas  more  in  sympathy  with  the  spir- 
its whom  he  was  to  influence.  He  deemed  himself  gifted  with 
supernatural  influxes,  an  especial  servant  of  Heaven,  a  chosen 
Warrior,  fighting  as  the  General  of  a  small  but  faithful  troop, 
against  an  Army  of  evil  Beings  headed  by  the  Prince  of  the 
Air.  These  were  no  metaphorical  beings  in  his  apprehension. 
He  was  a  Poet  indeed,  as  great  a  Poet  as  ever  lived  in  any 
age  or  country ;  but  his  poetic  images  were  so  vivid,  that  they 
mastered  the  Poet's  own  mind!  He  was  possessed  with  them, 
as  with  substances  distinct  from  himself:  Luther  did  not 
write,  he  acted  Poems.  The  Bible  was  a  spiritual  indeed  but 
not  a  figurative  armoury  in  his   belief;  it  was  the  magazine 


118 

of  his  warlike  stores,  and  from  tlience  he  was  to  arm  himself, 
and  supply  both  shield  and  sword,  and  javelin,  to  the  elect. 
Methinks  1  see  him  sitting,  the  heroic  Student,  in  his  Cham- 
ber in  the  VVarterburg,  with  his  midnight  Lamp  before  him, 
seen  by  the  late  Traveller  in  the  distant  Plain  of  Bischofsroda, 
as  a  Star  on  the  Mountain  !  Below  it  lies  the  Hebrew  Bible 
open,  on  which  he  gazes  his  brow  pressing  on  his  palm,  brood- 
ing over  some  obscure  Text,  which  he  desires  to  make  plain 
to  the  simple  Boor  and  to  the  humble  Artizan,  and  to  transfer 
its  whole  force  into  their  own  natural  and  living  Tongue.  And 
he  himself  does  not  understand  it !  Thick  darkness  lies  on  the 
original  Text,  he  counts  the  letters,  he  calls  up  the  roots  of 
each  separate  word,  and  questions  them  as  the  familiar  Spirits 
of  an  Oracle.  In  vain  !  thick  darkness  continues  to  cover  it! 
not  a  ray  of  meaning  dawns  through  it.  With  sullen  and  an- 
gry hope  he  reaches  for  the  Vulgate,  his  old  and  sworn  ene- 
my, the  treacherous  confederate  of  the  Roman  Antichrist, 
which  he  so  gladly,  when  he  can,  re-rebukes  for  idolatrous 
falsehoods,  that  had  dared  place 

"  Within  the  sanctuary  itself  their  shrines, 
Abominations !" 

Now — 0  thought  of  humiliation — he  must  entreat  its  aid.  See  ! 
there  has  the  sly  spirit  of  apostacy  worked-in  a  phrase  which 
favors  the  doctrine  of  purgatory,  the  intercession  of  Saints, 
or  the  efficacy  of  Prayers  for  the  Dead.  And  what  is  worst 
of  all,  the  interpretation  is  plausible.  The  original  Hebrew 
might  be  forced  into  this  meaning :  and  no  other  meaning 
seems  to  lie  in  it,  none  to  hover  above  it  in  the  heights  of 
Allegory,  none  to  lurk  beneath  it  even  in  the  depths  of  Caba- 
la !  This  is  the  work  of  the  Tempter  !  it  is  a  cloud  of  dark- 
ness conjured  up  between  the  truth  of  the  sacred  letters 
and  the  eyes  of  his  understanding,  by  the  malice  of  the  evil 
one,  and  for  a  trial  of  his  faith  !  Must  he  then  at  length  con- 
fess, must  he  subscribe  the  name  of  Luther  to  an  Exposition 
which  consecrates  a  weapon  for  the  hand  of  the  idolatrous  Hie- 
rarchy ?     Never  !  never  ! 

There  still  remains  one  auxiliary  in  reserve,  the  translation 
of  the  seventy.  The  Alexandrine  Greeks,  anterior  to  the 
Church  itself,  could  extend  no  support  to  its  corruptions — the 
Septuagint  will  have  profaned  the  Altar  of  Truth  with  no  in- 
tense for  the   Nostrils  of  the  universal   Bishop  to   snuff  up. 


And  here  again  his  hopes  are  baflled  !  Exactly  at  this  per- 
plexed passage  had  the  Greek  Translator  given  his  understand- 
ing a  holiday,  and  made  his  pen  supply  its  place.  O  honored 
Luther !  as  easily  mightest  thou  convert  the  whole  City  of 
Rome,  with  the  Pope  and  the  conclave  of  Cardinals  inclusive 
as  strike  a  spark  of  light  from  the  words,  and  nothing  but  ivords, 
of  the  Alexandrine  Version.  Disappointed,  despondent,  en- 
raged, ceasing  to  think,  yet  continuing  his  brain  on  the  stretch 
in  solicitation  of  a  thought ;  and  gradually  giving  himself  up  to 
angry  fancies,  to  recollections  of  past  persecutions,  to  uneasy 
fears  and  inward  defiances  and  floating  Images  of  the  evil  Be- 
ing, their  supposed  personal  author  ;  he  sinks,  without  perceiv- 
ing it,  into  a  trance  of  slumber :  during  which  his  brain  retains 
its  waking  energies,  excepting  that  what  would  have  been 
mere  thoughts  before  now  (the  action  and  counterweight  of 
his  senses  and  of  their  impressions  being  withdrawn )  shape  and 
condense  themselves  into  things,  into  realities !  Repeatedly 
half-wakening,  and  his  eye-lids  as  often  re-closing,  the  objects 
which  really  surrounded  him  form  the  place  and  scenery  of  his 
dream.  All  at  once  he  sees  the  Arch-fiend  coming  forth  on  the 
wall  of  the  room,  from  the  very  spot  perhaps,  on  which  his  eyes 
had  been  fixed  vacantly  during  the  perplexed  moments  of  his 
former  meditation  :  the  Ink-stand,  which  he  had  at  the  same 
time  been  using,  becomes  associated  with  it :  and  in  that  strug- 
gle of  rage,  which  in  these  distempered  dreams  almost  constant- 
ly precedes  the  helpless  terror  by  the  pain  of  which  we  are 
finally  awakened,  he  imagines  that  he  hurls  it  at  the  intruder, 
or  not  improbably  in  the  first  instant  of  awakening,  while  yet 
both  his  imagination  and  his  eyes  are  possessed  by  the  dream, 
he  actually  hurls  it.  Some  weeks  after,  perhaps,  during  which 
interval  he  had  often  mused  on  the  incident,  undetermined 
whether  to  deem  it  a  visitation  of  Satan  to  him  in  the  body  or 
out  of  the  body,  he  discovers  for  the  first  time  the  dark  spot 
on  his  wall,  and  receives  it  as  a  sign  and  pledge  vouchsafed 
to  him  of  the  event  having  actually  taken  place. 

Such  was  Luther  under  the  influences  of  the  age  and  coun- 
try in  and  for  which  he  was  born.  Conceive  him  a  citizen  of 
Geneva,  and  a  contemporary  of  Voltaire  :  suppose  the  French 
language  his  mother  tongue,  and  the  political  and  moral  philos- 
ophy of  English  Free-thinkers  re-modelled  by  Parisian  Fort 
Esprits,  to  have  been  the  objects  of  his  study  ; — conceive  this 


120 

change  of  circumstances,  and  Luther  will  no  longer  dream  of 
Fiends  or  of  Antichrist — but  will  we  have  no  dreams  in  their 
place  ?     His   melancholy  will  have  changed  its  drapery ;   but 
will  it  find  no  new  costume  wherewith  to   clothe  itself?  His 
impetuous   temperament,  his  deepworking  mind,  his  busy  and 
vivid  imaginations — would    they    not  have  been  a  trouble   to 
him  in  a  world,  where  nothing  was  to  be  altered,  where  nothing 
was  to  obey  his  power,  to  cease  to  be  that  which  had  been,  in 
order  to   realize   his   pre-conceptions   of  what  it  ought  to  be  ? 
His  sensibility,  which  found  objects  for  itself,  and  shadows  of 
human  suffering  in  the  harmless  Brute,  and  even  the  Flowers 
which  he  trod  upon — might  it  not  naturally,  in  an  unspiritual- 
ized  age,  have  wept,  and  trembled,  and  dissolved,  over  scenes 
of  earthly  passion,   and  the  struggles  of  love  with  duty?     His 
pity,  that  so  easily  passed  into  rage,  would  it  not  have  found 
in  the  inequalities  of  mankind,   in   the  oppressions  of  govern- 
ments and  the   miseries  of  the  governed,   an   entire   instead  of 
a  divided  object  ?     And  might  not  a  perfect  constitution,  a  gov- 
ernment  of  pure   reason,  a  renovation   of  the    social   contract, 
have  easily  supplied  the  place  of  the   reign   of  Christ  in  the 
new  Jerusalem,  of  the  restoration  of  the  visible  Church,  and 
the  union  of  all  men  by  one  faith  in  one  charity?     Hencefor- 
ward then,  we  will  conceive  his  reason  employed  in  building 
up  anew  the  edifice  of  earthly  society,  and  his  imagination  as 
pledging    itself  for   the    possible  realization  of  the  structure. 
We  will   lose   the   great   reformer,   who   was  born   in   an   age 
which  needed  him,  in   the   Philosopher  of  Geneva,   who  was 
doomed  to  misapply  his  energies  to  materials  the  properties  of 
which  he   misunderstood,   and  happy  only  that  he  did  not  live 
to  witness  the  direful  effects  of  his  system. 


ESSAY    III. 


Pectora  cui   credam  ?  quis  me  loniro  docebit 
Mordaces  curas,  quis  longas  falleie  noctes 
Ex  quosiimma  dies  tulerit  Dauiouasub  umbras? 
Omnia  paulatim  consumit  longior  astas, 
Vivendoque  simul  niorimur,  rapiniurque  manendo. 
Ite  tamen,  lacrymffi  !  purum  colis  ajthera,  Damon  ! 
Nee  mihi  conveniunt  lacrymie.     Non  omnia  terrfe 
Obruta!  vi\it  amor,  vivit  dolor  !  ora  negatur 
Dulcia  conspicere :  flere  et  meminisse  relictum  est. 


The  two  following  Essays  I  devote  to  elucidation,  the  first  of 
the  theory  of  Luther's  Apparitions  stated  perhaps  too  briefly 
in  the  preceding  Number  :  the  second  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
moving the  only  difiiculty,  which  I  can  discover  in  the  next 
section  of  the  Friend  to  the  Reader's  ready  comprehension  ot 
the  principles,  on  which  the  arguments  are  grounded.  First,  \ 
will  endeavor  to  make  my  Ghost-Theory  more  clear  to  those  of 
my  readers,  who  are  fortunate  enough  to  find  it  obscure  in  conse- 
quence of  their  own  good  health  and  unshattered  nerves.  The 
window  of  my  library  at  Keswick  is  opposite  to  the  fire-place, 
and  looks  out  on  the  very  large  garden  that  occupies  the  whole 
slope  of  the  hill  on  which  the  house  stands.  Consequently, 
the  rays  of  the  light  transmitted  through  the  glass,  (i.  e.  the 
rays  from  the  garden,  the  opposite  mountains,  and  the  bridge, 
river,  lake,  and  vale  interjacent)  and  the  rays  reflected /rom 
it,  (of  the  fire-place,  &c.)  enter  the  eye  at  the  same  moment. 
At  the  coming  on  of  evening,  it  was  my  frequent  amusement 
to  watch  the  image  or  reflection  of  the  fire,  that  seemed  burn- 
ing in  the  bushes  or  between  the  trees  in  diff"ercnt  parts  of  the 
garden  or  the  fields  beyond  it,  according  as  there  was  more  or 
less  light ;  and  which  still  arranged  itself  among  the  real  objects 
16 


122 

of  vision,  with  a  distance  and  magnitude  proportioned  to  its 
greater  or  lesser  faintness.  For  still  as  the  darkness  encreased, 
the  image  of  the  fire  lessened  and  grew  nearer  and  more  dis- 
tinct ;  till  the  twilight  had  depened  into  perfect  night,  when 
all  outward  objects  being  excluded,  the  window  became  a  per- 
fect looking-glass :  save  only  that  my  books  on  the  side  shelves 
of  the  room  were  lettered,  as  it  were,  on  their  backs  with 
stars,  more  or  fewer  as  the  sky  was  more  or  less  clouded,  (the 
rays  of  the  stars  being  at  that  time  the  only  ones  transmitted.) 
Now  substitute  the  Phantom  from  Luther's  brain  for  the  ima- 
ges of  re^ecferf  light  (the  fire  for  instance)  and  the  forms  of 
his  room  and  his  furniture  for  the  transmitted  rays,  and  you 
have  a  fair  resemblance  of  an  apparition,  and  a  just  conception 
of  the  manner  in  which  it  is  seen  together  with  real  objects. 
I  have  long  wished  to  devote  an  entire  work  to  the  subject 
of  Dreams,  Visions,  Ghosts,  Witchcraft,  &c.  in  which  I  might 
first  give,  and  then  endeavor  to  explain  the  most  interesting 
and  best  attested  fact  of  each,  which  has  come  within  my 
knowledge,  either  from  books  or  from  personal  testimony.  I 
might  then  explain  in  a  more  satisfactory  w-ay  the  mode  in 
which  our  thoughts,  in  states  of  morbid  slumber,  become  at 
times  perfectly  dramatic  (for  in  certain  sorts  of  dreams  the 
dullest  Wight  becomes  a  Shakespeare)  and  by  what  law  the 
Form  of  the  vision  appears  to  talk  to  us  its  own  thoughts  in  a 
voice  as  audible  as  the  shape  is  visible ;  and  this  too  often- 
times in  connected  trains,  and  not  seldom  even  wuth  a  concen- 
tration of  power  which  may  easily  impose  on  the  soundest 
judgements,  uninstructed  in  the  Optics  and  Acoustics  of  the 
inner  sense,  for  Revelations  and  gifts  of  Prescience.  In  aid  of 
the  present  case,  I  will  only  remark,  that  it  would  appear  in- 
credible to  persons  not  accustomed  to  these  subtle  notices  of 
self  observation,  what  small  and  remote  resemblances,  what 
mere  hints  of  likeness  from  some  real  external  object,  especi- 
ally if  the  shape  be  aided  by  colour,  will  suffice  to  make  a 
vivid  thought  consubstantiate  with  the  real  object,  and  derive 
from  it  an  outward  perceptibility.  Even  when  we  are  broad 
awake,  if  we  are  in  anxious  expectation,  how  often  will  not 
the  most  confused  sounds  of  nature  be  heard  by  us  as  articu- 
late sounds?  For  instance,  the  babbling  of  a  brook  will  appear 
for  a  moment  the  voice  of  a  Friend,  for  whom  we  are  waiting, 
calling  out  our  own   names,   &c.     A   short  meditation,   there- 


123 

fore,  on  the  great  law  of  the  imagination,  that  a  likeness  in  part 
tends  to  become  a  likeness  of  the  whole,  will  make  it  not  on- 
ly conceivable  but  probable,  that  the  ink-stand  itself,  and  the 
dark-coloured  stone  on  the  wall,  which  Luther  perhaps  had 
never  till  then  noticed,  might  have  a  considerable  influence  in 
the  production  of  the  Fiend,  and  of  the  hostile  act  by  which 
his  obtrusive  visit  was  repelled. 

A  lady  once  asked  me  if  I  believed  in  ghosts  and  apparitions. 
I    answered    with  truth  and    simplicity :  No^  madam !  I  have 
seen  far  too  many  myself.     I  have  indeed  a  whole  memorandum 
book  filled  with  records  of  these   Phsenomena,   many  of  them 
interesting  as  facts  and  data  for  Psychology,  and  affording  some 
valuable  materials  for  a  theory  of  preception  and  its  dependence 
on  the  memory  and  imagination.     "  In  omnem   actum   Percep- 
tionis  imaginatio  influet   eflicienter." — Wolfe.     But  He  is  no 
more,  who  would   have    realized  this  idea :  who   had   already 
established  the  foundations  and  the  law  of  the  theory ;  and  for 
whom  I  had   so   often   found  a  pleasure  and   a   comfort,   even 
during  the  wretched  and  restless   nights  of  sickness,  in  watch- 
ing and    instantly    recording    these   experiences   of  the   world 
within  us,  of  the  "  gemina  natura,  quse   fit  et   facit,   et  creat   et 
creatur  !"     He  is   gone,   my  friend  !  my   munificent   co-patron, 
and  not  less  the  benefactor   of  my  intellect ! — He  who,  beyond 
all  other  men  known  to  me,  added  a  fine  and  ever-wakeful  sense 
of  beauty  to  the  most  patient  accuracy  in  experimental  Philoso- 
phy  and   the  profounder  researches   of  metaphysical  science  ; 
he  who  united  all  the  play  and  spring  of  fancy  with  the  subtlest 
discrimination  and  an  inexorable  judgement;  and  who  control- 
led an  almost  painful   exquisiteness   of  taste  by   a   warmth   of 
heart,  which  in  the  practical  relations  of  life    made  allowances 
for  faults  as  quick  as  the  moral  taste   detected  them ;  a  warmth 
of  heart,  which  was  indeed   noble   and   pre-eminent,   for   alas ! 
the    genial  feelings  of  health   contributed   no   spark  toward  it ! 
Of  these  qualities  I  may  speak,  for  they  belonged  to   all  man- 
kind.— The  higher  virtues,   that  were   blessings  to  his  friends, 
and   the   still  higher  that  resided  in  and  for  his  own  soul,  are 
themes  for  the  energies  of  solitude,  for  the   awfulness  of  pray- 
er ! — virtues  exercised  in  the  barrenness   and  desolation  of  his 
animal  being  ;  while  he  thirsted  with  the  full  stream  at  his  lips, 
and  yet  with  unwearied  goodness  poured  out  to  all  around  him, 
like  the  master  of  a  feast  among  his  kindred   in  the  day  of  his 


124 

own  gladness !  Were  it  but  for  the  remembrance  of  him  alone 
and  of  his  lot  here  below,  the  disbelief  of  a  future  state  would 
sadden  the  earth  around  me,  and  blight  the  very  grass  in  the 
field. 


ESSAY     IV. 


Xule.'io'' y,  It)'  daiiio' yie,  fnf  nacQud&iyuuin  ^qih' jusvoi'  ixuviM'g  irStixvva- 
xf'ui  Ti  ro>  V  f(ei'C,o'  ywv.  xiidvvev'ei,  yag  rf  fjotv  exaqog  oiov  "ovuq,  eidio^g 
^'uTTdi'ia,  nuvi'  uv  na'Xa'  m'' UTitQ" vtxuq  u'yroeip. 

Plato,  Polit.  p.  47.  Ed.  Bip. 

Translation. — It  is  Uifiiciilt,  excellent  friend!  to  make  any  comprehensive 

truth    completely   intelligible,  unless   we  avail   ourselves  of  an  example. 

Otherwise  we  may  as  in  a  dream,  seem  to  know  all,  and  then  as  it  were, 

awaking  find  that  we  know  nothing. 

Plato. 


Among  my  earliest  impressions  I  still  distinctly  rememl)er 
that  of  my  first  entrance  into  the  mansion  of  a  neighboring 
Baronet,  awfully  known  to  me  by  the  name  of  The  Great 
House,  its  exterior  having  been  long  connected  in  my  childish 
imagination  with  the  feelings  and  fancies  stirred  up  in  me  by 
the  perusal  of  the  Arabian  Nights'  Entertainments.*     Beyond 


*  As  I  iiad  read  one  vokunc  of  these  tales  over  and  over  again  before  my 
fifth  birll)-day,  it  niay  be  reaiHly  conjectured  of  what  sort  these  fancies  and 
f(,-elings  iiuist  have  been.  The  l»ook,  I  wel'  remember,  iisetl  to  lie  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  j)arlonr  window  at  my  dear  Father's  Vicarage-house :  and  I  can 
never  forget  with  what  a  strange  mixture  of  obscure  dread  and  intense  de- 
sire I  used  to  look  at  tlie  volume  and  watch  it,  till  the  morning  sunshine  had 
n-ached  and  n*'Hriy  covered  it,  when,  and  not  before,  I  felt  the  courage  given 
me  to  seize  the  piecious  treasure  and  hurry  off  with  it  to  some  sunny  corner 
in  our  play-ground. 


# 


125 


all  other  objects,  I  was  most  struck  with  the  magnificent  stair- 
case, relieved  at  well  proportioned  intervals  by  spacious  land- 
ing-places, this  adorned  with  grand  or  shewy  plants,  the 
next  looking  out  on  an  extensive  prospect  through  the  stately 
window  with  its  side  panes  of  rich  blues  and  saturated  amber 
or  orange  tints :  while  from  the  last  and  highest  the  eye  com- 
manded the  whole  spiral  ascent  with  the  marbled  pavement  of 
the  great  hall  from  which  it  seemed  to  spring  up  as  if  it  merely 
iised  the  ground  on  which  it  rested.  My  readers  will  find  no 
difficulty  in  translating  these  forms  of  the  outward  senses  into 
their  intellectual  analogies,  so  as  to  understand  the  purport  of 
the  Friend's  landing-places,  and  the  objects,  he  proposed  to 
himself,  in  the  small  groups  of  Essays  interposed  under  this  ti- 
tle bet\w;en   the  main  divisions  of  the  work. 

My  best  powers  would  have  sunk  within  me,  had  I  not  sooth- 
ed my  solitary  toils  with  the  anticipation  of  many  readers — 
( whether  during  the  Writer's  life,  or  when  his  grave  shall  have 
shamed  his  detractors  into  a  sympathy  with  its  own  silence, 
formed  no  part  in  this  self-flattery )  who  would  submit  to  any 
reasonable  trouble  rather  than  read  "  as  in  a  dream  seeming  to 
know  all,  to  find  on  awaking  that  they  know  nothing."  Hav- 
ing, therefore  in  the  three  preceding  numbers  selected  from  my 
conservatory  a  few  plants,  of  somewhat  gayer  petals  and  a  live- 
lier green,  though  like  the  Geranium  tribe  of  a  sober  character 
in  the  whole  physiognomy  and  odor,  I  shall  first  devote  a  few 
sentences  to  a  catalogue  raisonne  of  my  introductory  lucubra- 
tions, and  the  remainder  of  the  Essay  to  the  prospect,  as  far  as 
it  can  be  seen  distinctly  from  our  present  site.  Within  a  short 
distance,  several  ways  meet :  and  at  that  point  only  does  it  ap- 
pear to  me  that  the  reader  will  be  in  danger  of  mistaking  the 
road.  Dropping  the  metaphor,  I  would  say  that  there  is  one 
term,  the  meaning  of  which  has  become  unsettled.  To  differ- 
ent persons  it  conveys  a  dill'erent  idea,  and  not  seldom  to  the 
same  person  at  difterent  times  ;  while  the  force,  and  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  the  intelligibility  of  the  Ibllowing  sections  depend 
on  its  being  interpreted  in  one  sense  exclusively. 

Essays  from  I.  to  IV.  inclusive  convey  the  design  and  con- 
tents of  the  work  ;  the  Friknd's  judgement  respecting  the  style, 
and  his  defence  of  himself  from  the  charges  of  Arrogance  and 
Presumption.  Say  rather,  that  such  are  the  personal  threads 
of  the  discourse  :  for  it  will  not  have  escaped  the  Reader's  ob- 


136 

seivation,  that  even  in   these  prefatory  pages  principles   and 
truths  of  general  interest  form  the  true  contents,  and  that  amid 
all  the  usual  compliments  and  courtesies  of  the  The  Friend's 
first  presentation   of  himself  to  his  Reader's  acquaintance  the 
substantial  object  is  still  to  assert   the   practicability,   without 
disguising  the  difficulties,  of  improving  the  morals  of  mankind 
by  a  direct  appeal  to  their  Understandings ;   to   shew   the  dis- 
tinction between  Attention  and  Thought,   and  the   necessity  of 
the  former   as  a  habit   or  discipline   without   which   the   very 
word.  Thinking,  must  remain  a  thoughtless  substitute  for  dream- 
ing with  our  eyes   open ;   and  lastly,  the  tendency  of  a  certain 
fashionable  style  with   all  its   accommodations  to   paralyse   the 
very  faculties  of  manly  intellect  by  a  series  of  petty  stimulants. 
After  this  preparation  The  Friend  proceeds  at  once  t»  lay  the 
foundations  common  to  the  whole  work  by  an  inquiry  into  the 
duty  of  communicating  Truth,  and  the  conditions  under  which 
it  may  be   communicated   with   safety,  from  the    Fifth  to  the 
Sixteenth  Essay  inclusive.     Each  Essay  will,  he  believes,  be 
found  complete  in  itself,  yet  an  organic  part  of  the   whole  con- 
sidered as  one  disquisition.     First,  the   inexpediency   of  pious 
Frauds  is  proved  from  History,  the  shameless  assertion  of  the 
indifference  of  Truth  and   Falsehood  exposed  to   its  deserved 
infamy,  and  an  answer  given  to  the  objection  derived  from  the 
impossibility  of  conveying  an  adequate  notion  of  the  truths,  we 
may   attempt  to  communicate.     The  conditions   are   then   de- 
tailed, under  which,  right  though    inadequate  notions   may   be 
taught   without  danger,  and   proofs   given,  both  from  facts  and 
from  reason,  that  he,   who  fulfils  the  conditions  required   by 
Conscience,  takes  the  surest  way  of  answering  the  purposes  of 
Prudence.     This  is,  indeed,  the  main  characteristic  of  the  mor- 
al system  taught   by  the    Friend   throughout,   that  the   distinct 
foresight  of  Consequences   belongs   exclusively  to  that  infinite 
Wisdom  which  is  one   with  that   Almighty   Will,  on  which  all 
consequisnces  depend  ;  but  that /or  3Ian — to  obey   the   simple 
unconditional  commandment  of  eschewing  every  act  that  im- 
plies  a  self-contradiction,  or   in   other   words,  to   produce  and 
maintain  the  greatest  possible    Harmony    in  the  component  im- 
pulses and  faculties  of  his  nature,  involves  the    effects  of  Pru- 
dence.    It  is,  as  it  were,    Prudence  in  short-hand  or  cypher. 
A   pure    Conscience,   that   inward    something,   that   Sr£&?   olxsi&.c, 
which  being  absolutely   unique  no  man   can  describe^  because 


127 

every  man  is  bound  to  knoiv^  and  even  in  the  eye  of  the  Law 
is  held  to  be  a  person  no  longer  than   he  may  be  supposed  to 
know   it — the   Conscience,   I   say,  bears   the   same   relation  to 
God,  as  an  accurate  Time-piece  bears  to  the  Sun.     The  Time- 
piece merely  indicates  the  relative  path   of  the   Sun,  yet  we 
can  regulate  our  plans  and  proceedings  by  it  with  the  same  con- 
fidence   as  if  it  was  itself  the   efficient  cause  of  light,  heat,  and 
the  revolving  seasons;  on  the  self-evident  axiom,  that  in  what- 
ever sense  two  things  (for   instance,   A.  and  c  D  K-)  are  both 
equal  to  a  third  thing  (B.)  they  are  in  the  same  sense  equal  to 
each  other.     Cunning  is  circuitous   folly.     In  plain  English,  to 
act  the  knave  is  but  a  round  about  way  of  playing  the  fool ;  and 
the  man,  who  will  not  permit  himself  to   call  an   action   by  its 
proper  name  without   a  previous  calculation   of  all   its  probable 
consequences,   may  be  indeed  only  a  coxcomb,   who  is  looking 
at  his  fingers  through  an  opera  glass ;  but  he  runs  no  small  risk 
of  becoming  a  knave.     The  chances  are  against  him.     Though 
he  should  begin  by  calculating  the  consequences  with  regard  to 
others,  yet  by  the  mere  habit  of  never  contemplating  an  action 
in  its  own  proportions  and  immediate  relations  to  his  moral  be- 
ing it  is  scarcely  possible   but  that  he  must  e7id   in  selfishness : 
for  the  YOU,  and  the  they  will  stand  on  different  occasions  for 
a  thousand  different  persons,  while  the  1  is  one  only,  and  recurs 
in  every  calculation.     Or  grant  that  the  principle  of  expedien- 
cy should  prompt  to  the  same  outward  deeds  as  are  commanded 
by  the  law  of  reason;  yet  the  doer  himself  is  debased.     But  if 
it  be  replied,  that  the  re-action   on  the   agent's  own  mind  is   to 
form  a  part  of  the  calculation,   then  it  is  a  rule  that  destroys  it- 
self in  the  very  propounding,  as  will  be  more  fully  demonstra- 
ted in  the  second  or  ethical  division  of  the   Friend,    when   we 
shall  have  detected  and  exposed  the  equivoque  between  an  ac- 
tion and  the  series  of  motions  by  which  the  determinations   of 
the  Will  are  to  be  realized  in   the    world  of  the  senses.     What 
modification  of  the  latter  corresponds  to  the  former,  and  is  en- 
titled to  be  called  by  the  same  name,  Avill  often  depend  on  time, 
place,  persons,  and    circumstances,   the   consideration  of  which 
requires  an  exertion  of  the  jiidgement ;  but  the  action  itself  re- 
mains the  same,  and  like  all   other  ideas  pro-exists  in  the  rea- 
son,* or  (in  the  more  expressive  and  perhaps  more  precise  and 


*  See  the  Statesman's  Manual,  p.  2.3. 


128 

philosophical  language  of  St.  Paul)  in  the  spirit,  unalterable 
because  unconditional,  or  with  no  other  than  that  most  awful 
condition,  as  sure  as  God  liveth,  it  is  so  ! 

These  remarks  are  inserted  in  this  place,  because  the  prin- 
ciple admits  of  easiest  illustration  in  the  instance  of  veracity 
and  the  actions  connected  with  the  same,  and  may  then  be  in- 
telligibly applied  to  other  departments  of  morality,  all  of  which 
Wollaston  indeed  considers  as  only  so  many  different  forms  of 
truth  and  falsehood.  So  far  the  Friend  has  treated  of  oral 
communication  of  the  truth.  The  applicability  of  the  same 
principle  is  then  tried  and  affirmed  in  publications  by  the 
Press,  first  as  between  the  individual  and  his  own  conscience 
and  then  between  the  publisher  and  the  state  :  and  under  this 
head  the  Friend  has  considered  at  large  the  questions  of  a 
free  Press  and  the  law  of  libel,  the  anomalies  and  peculiar 
difficulties  of  the  latter,  and  the  only  possible  solution  com- 
patible with  the  continuance  of  the  former :  a  solution  rising 
out  of  and  justified  by  the  necessarily  anomalous  and  unique 
nature  of  the  law  itself.  He  confesses,  that  he  looks  back  on 
this  discussion  concerning  the  Press  and  its  limits  with  a  satis- 
faction unusual  to  him  in  the  review  of  his  own  labours :  and 
if  the  date  of  their  first  publication  (September,  1809)  be  re- 
membered, it  will  not  perhaps  be  denied  on  an  impartial  com- 
parison, that  he  has  treated  this  most  important  subject  (so  es- 
pecially interesting  in  the  present  times)  more  fully  and  more 
systematically  than  it  had  hitherto  been.  Interim  turn  recti 
conscientia,  turn  illo  me  consolor,  quod  octimis  quibusque  certe 
non  improbamur,  fortassis  omnibus  placituri,  simul  atque  livor 
ab  obitu  conquieverit. 

Lastly,  the  subject  is  concluded  even  as  it  commenced,  and 
as  beseemed  a  disquisition  placed  as  the  steps  and  vestibule  of 
the  whole  work,  with  an  enforcement  of  the  absolute  necessi- 
ty of  principles  grounded  in  reason  as  the  basis  or  rather  as  the 
living  root  of  all  genuine  expedience.  Where  these  are  de- 
spised or  at  best  regarded  as  aliens  from  the  actual  business  of 
life,  and  consigned  to  the  ideal  world  of  speculative  philosophy 
and  Utopian  politics,  instead  of  state-wisdom  we  shall  have 
state-craft,  and  for  the  talent  of  the  governor  the  cleverness  of 
an  embarrassed  spendthrift — which  consists  in  tricks  to  shift  off 
difficulties  and  dangers  when  they  are  close  upon  us,  and  to 
keep  them  at  arm's  length,  not  in  solid  and  grounded  courses 


129 

to  preclude  or  subdue  them.  We  must  content  ourselves  with 
expedient-makers — with  fire-engines  against  fires,  Life-boats 
against  inundations ;  but  no  houses  built  fire-proof,  no  dams 
that  rise  above  the  water-mark.  The  reader  will  have  observ- 
ed that  already  has  the  term,  reason,  been  frequently  contra- 
distinguished from  the  understanding,  and  the  judgement.  If 
the  Friend  could  succeed  in  fully  explaining  the  sense  in  which 
the  word  Reason,  is  employed  by  him,  and  in  satisfying  the 
reader's  mind  concerning  the  grounds  and  importance  of  the 
distinction,  he  would  feel  little  or  no  apprehension  concerning 
the  intelligibility  of  these  Essays  from  first  to  last.  The  fol- 
lowing section  is  in  part  founded  on  this  distinction :  the  which 
remaining  obscure,  all  else  will  be  so  as  a  system,  however 
clear  the  component  paragraphs  may  be,  taken  separately.  In 
the  appendix  to  his  first  Lay  Sermon,  the  Author  has  indeed 
treated  the  question  at  considerable  length,  but  chiefly  in  rela- 
tion to  the  heights  of  Theology  and  Metaphysics.  In  the  next 
number  he  attempts  to  explain  himself  more  popularly,  and 
trusts  that  with  no  great  expenditure  of  attention  the  reader 
will  satisfy  his  mind,  that  our  remote  ancestors  spoke  as  men 
acquainted  with  the  constituent  parts  of  their  own  moral  and 
intellectual  being,  when  they  described  one  man  as  being  out 
his  senses,  another  as  out  of  his  ivits,  or  deranged  in  his  im- 
derstanding,  and  a  third  as  having  lost  his  reason.  Observe, 
the  understanding  may  be  deranged,  weakened,  or  perverted  ; 
but  the  reason  is  either  lost  or  not  lost,  that  is,  wholly  present 
or  wholly  absent. 


17 


ESSAY  V. 


Man  may  rather  l)e  defined  a  religious  than  a  rational  cliaracter,  in  regard 
that  in  other  creatures  there  may  be  something  of  Reason,  but  tliere  ia 
nothing  of  ReUgion. 

Harrington. 


If  the  Reader  will  substitute  the  word  "  Understanding"  for 
"  Reason,"  and  the  word  "  Reason"  for  "  Religion,"  Harring- 
ton has  here  completely  expressed  the  Truth  for  which  the 
Friend  is  contending.  But  that  this  was  Harrington's  meaning 
is  evident.  Otherwise  instead  of  comparing  two  faculties  with 
each  other,  he  would  contrast  a  faculty  with  one  of  its  own  ob- 
jects, which  would  involve  the  same  absurdity  as  if  he  had  said, 
that  man  might  rather  be  defined  an  astronomical  than  a  seeing 
animal,  because  other  animals  possessed  the  sense  of  Sight,  but 
were  incapable  of  beholding  the  satellites  of  Saturn,  or  the 
nebula?  of  fixed  stars.  If  further  confirmation  be  necessary,  it 
may  be  supplied  by  the  following  reflections,  the  leading  thought 
of  which  I  remember  to  have  read  in  the  works  of  a  continen- 
tal Philosopher.  It  should  seem  easy  to  give  the  definite  dis- 
tinction of  the  Reason  from  the  Understanding,  because  we 
constantly  imply  it  when  we  speak  of  the  difference  between 
ourselves  and  the  brute  creation.  No  one,  except  as  a  figure 
of  speech,  ever  speaks   of  an   animal  reason;*   but  that   many 


*I  have  tiiis  moment  looked  over  a  Translation  of  Blumenhach's  Physiolo- 
gy by  Dr.  Elliotson,  which  forms  a  glaring  exception,  p.  45.  I  do  not  know 
Dr.  Elliotson,  but  I  do  know  Professor  Blumenhach,  and  was  an  assiduous 
attendant  on  the  Lectures,  of  wliich  this  classical  work  was  the  text-book: 
and  I  know  that  that  good  and  great  man  would  start  back  with  surprize  and 
indignation  at  the  gross  materialism  morticed  on  to  his  work :  the  more  so 
because  during  tin.'  whole  period,  in  which  the  identification  of  Man  with  the 


131 

animals  possess  a  share  of  Understanding,  perfectly  distinguisha- 
ble from  mere  Instinct,  we  all  allow.  Few  persons  have  a  fa- 
vorite dog  without  making  instances  of  its  intelligence  an  oc- 
casional topic  of  conversation.  They  call  for  our  admiration  of 
the  individual  animal,  and  not  with  exclusive  reference  to  the 
Wisdom  in  Nature,  as  in  the  case  of  the  storge  or  maternal  in- 
stinct of  beasts  ;  or  of  the  hexangular  cells  of  the  bees,  and  the 
wonderful  coincidence  of  this  form  with  the  geometrical  demon- 
stration of  the  largest  possible  number  of  rooms  in  a  given  space. 
Likewise,  we  distinguish  various  degrees  of  Understanding 
there,  and  even  discover  from  inductions  supplied  by  the  Zoo- 
logists, that  the  Understanding  appears  (as  a  general  rule)  in 
an  inverse  proportion  to  the  Instinct.  We  hear  little  or  noth- 
ing of  the  instincts  of  "the  half-reasoning  elephant,"  and  as 
little  of  the  Understanding  of  Caterpillars  and  Butterflies. 
(N.  B.  Though  REASONING  does  not  in  our  language,  in  the 
lax  use  of  words  natural  in  conversation  or  popular  writings, 
imply  scientific  conclusion,  yet  the  phrase  "half-reasoning"  is 
evidently  used  by  Pope  as  a  poetic  hyperbole.)  But  Reason 
is  wholly  denied,  equally  to  the  highest  as  to  the  lowest  of  the 
brutes  ;  otherwise  it  must  be  wholly  attributed  to  them,  and 
with  it  therefore  Self-consciousness,  and  personality^  or  Moral 
Being. 

I  should  have  no  objection  to  define  Reason  with  Jacobi,  and 
with  his  friend  Hemsterhuis,  as  an  organ  bearing  the  same  re- 
lation to  spiritual  objects,  the  Universal,  the  Eternal,  and  the 
Necessary,  as  the  eye  bears  to  material  and  contingent  phaeno- 
mena.  But  then  it  must  be  added,  that  it  is  an  organ  identical 
with  its  appropriate  objects.  Thus,  God,  the  Soul,  eternal 
Truth,  &c.  are  the  objects  of  Reason ;  but  they  are  themselves 
reason.  We  name  God  the  Supreme  Reason;  and  Milton  says, 
"Whence  the  Soul  ^e«5on  receives,  and  Reason  is  her  Being." 


Brute  in  kind  wn^iihn  fashion  of  Naluralists,  Bliinionljacli  reuuiined  rt/Y/e?i<  ami 
instant  in  controverting  the  opinion,  and  exposing  its  taliacy  aucl  falsehood, 
both  as  a  man  of  sense  and  as  a  Natnrahst.  I  may  truly  say,  that  it  was  up- 
permost in  his  heart  and  foremost  in  his  speech.  Therefore,  and  from  no  hos- 
tile feeling  to  Dr.  EUiotson  (whom  I  hear  spoken  of  with  great  regard  and 
respect,  and  to  whom  I  myself  give  credit  for  his  manly  o/)en7ie6'5  in  the  avowal 
of  his  opinions)  I  have  felt  the  present  animadversion  a  duty  of  justice  asj 
well  as  gratitude. 

S.  T.  C.  8  April,  1817. 


132 

Whatever  is  conscious  /S'eZ/'-knowledge  is  Reason  ;  and  in  this 
sense  it  may  be  safely  defined  the  organ  of  the  Supersensuous ; 
even  as  the  Understanding  wherever  it  does  not  possess  or  use 
the  Reason,  as  another  and  inward  eye,  may  be  defined  the 
conception  of  the  Sensuous,  or  the  faculty  by  which  we  gener- 
alize and  arrange  the  phajnomena  of  perception :  that  faculty, 
the  functions  of  which  contain  the  rules  and  constitute  the  pos- 
sibility of  outward  Experience.  In  short,  the  Understanding 
supposes  something  that  is  understood.  This  may  be  merely 
its  own  acts  or  forms,  that  is,  formal  Logic ;  but  i^eal  objects, 
the  materials  of  substantial  knowledge,  must  be  furnished,  we 
might  safely  say  revealed^  to  it  by  Organs  of  Sense.  The  un- 
derstanding of  the  higher  Brutes  has  only  organs  of  outward 
sense,  and  consequently  material  objects  only  ;  but  man's  un- 
derstanding has  likewise  an  organ  of  inward  sense,  and  there- 
fore the  power  of  acquainting  itself  with  invisible  realities  or 
spiritual  objects.  This  organ  is  his  Reason.  Again,  the  Un- 
derstanding and  Experience  may  exist*  without  Reason.  But 
Reason  cannot  exist  without  Understanding  ;  nor  does  it  or  can 
it  manifest  itself  but  in  and  through  the  understanding,  which 
in  our  elder  writers  is  often  called  discourse,  or  the  discursive 
faculty,  as  by  Hooker,  Lord  Bacon,  and  Hobbes :  and  an  un- 
derstanding enlightened  by  reason  Shakspeare  gives  as  the  con- 
tra-distinguishing character  of  man,  under  the  name  discourse 
of  reason.  In  short,  the  human  understanding  possesses  tw-o 
distinct  organs,  the  outward  sense,  and  "  the  mind's  eye" 
which  is  reason:  wherever  we  use  that  phrase  (the  mind's 
eye)  in  its  proper  sense,  and  not  as  a  mere  synonyme  of  the 
memory  or  the  fiincy.  In  this  w'ay  we  reconcile  the  promise 
of  Revelation,  that  the  blessed  will  see  God,  with  the  decla- 
ration of  St.  John,  God  hath  no  one  seen  at  any  time. 

We  will  add  one  other  illustration  to  prevent  any  misconcep- 


*  Of  this  no  one  would  feel  inclined  to  doubt,  who  had  seen  the2)Oodle  dog 
whom  the  celebrated  BLUMErs'BACH,,a  name  so  dear  to  science,  as  a  physiolo- 
gist and  Comparative  Anatomist,  and  not  less  dear  as  a  man,  to  all  English- 
men who  have  ever  resided  at  Gottingen  in  the  course  of  their  education, 
trained  uj),  not  only  to  hach  the  eggs  of  the  hen  with  all  the  mother's  care 
and  patience,  but  to  attend  the  chicken  atlerwards,  and  find  the  food  for  them. 
I  have  myself  known  a  Newfcjundland  dog,  who  watched  and  guarded  a 
family  of  young  children  with  all  the  intelligence  of  a  nurse,  during  their 
Avalks. 


133 

tion,  as  it'  we  were  dividing  the  human  soul  into  diflerent  es- 
sences, or  ideal  persons.  In  this  piece  of  steel  1  acknowledge 
the  properties  of  hardness,  brittleness,  high  polish,  and  the 
capability  of  forming  a  mirror.  I  find  all  these  likewise  in  the 
plate  glass  of  a  friend's  carriage  ;  but  in  addition  to  all  these, 
I  find  the  quality  of  transparency,  or  the  power  of  transmitting 
as  well  as  of  reflecting  the  rays  of  light.  The  application  is 
obvious. 

If  the  reader  therefore  will  take  the  trouble  of  bearing  in 
mind  these   and   the   following  explanations,  he  will  have  re- 
moved before  hand  every  possible  difficulty  from  the  Friend's 
political   section.     For  there  is  another  use  of  the  word,  Rea- 
son, arising  out   of  the  former   indeed,  but  less  definite,  and 
more   exposed   to  misconception.     In   this   latter  use  it  means 
the  understanding  considered  as  using  the  Reason,  so  far  as  by 
the  organ  of  Reason  only  we  possess  the  ideas  of  the  Necessa- 
ry and  the  Universal  ;  and  this  is  the  more  common  use  of  the 
word,  when  it  is  applied  with  any  attempt  at  clear  and  distinct 
conceptions.     In  this  narrower  and  derivative  sense  the  best  de- 
finition  of  Reason,   which,   I    can  give,  will   be   found   in  the 
third  member  of  the  following  sentence,  in  which  the  under- 
standing is  described  in  its  three-fold  operation,  and  from  each 
receives  an  appropriate    name.     The   sense,   (vis  sensitiva  vel 
intuitiva)  perceives:  Vis  regulatrix    (the  understanding,  in  its 
own  peculiar  operation)  conceives:    Vis  rationalis  (the  Reason 
or  rationalized  understanding)   comprehends.     The  first  is  im- 
pressed  through   the    organs   of   sense,   the    second    combines 
these  multifarious  impressions  into  individual  Notions^  and  by 
reducing  these  notions  to  Rules,  according  to  the  analogy  of  all 
its  former  notices,  constitutes  Experience  :  the  third  subordi- 
nates both  these  notions  and  the  rules  of  Experience  to  abso- 
LUTK  Principles  or  necessary  Laws  :  and  thus  concerning  ob- 
jects, which  our  experience  has  proved  to  have  real  existence, 
it  demonstrates  moreover,  in  what  v/ay  they  are  possible,  and 
in  doins;   this  constitutes   Science.     Reason  therefore,   in   this 
secondary  sense,  and  used,  not  as  a  spiritual   Organ  but  as  a 
Faculty  (namely,  the  Understanding  or  Soul  enlightened  by 
that  organ) — Reason,  I  say,  or  the  scientific  Faculty,  is  the  In- 
tellection of  the  possibility  or  essential  properties  of  things  by 
means  of  the  Laws  that  constitute   them,     'i'hus    the  rational 


134 

idea  of  a  Circle  is  that  of  a  figure   constituted  by  the  circum- 
volution of  a  straight  line  with  its  one  end  fixed. 

Every   man   must   feel,  that  though  he  may   not  be  exerting 
different   faculties,   he    is  exerting   his   faculties  in   a  different 
way,  when  in  one  instance  he  begins  with  some   one    self-evi- 
dent truth,  (that  the  radii  of  a  circle,  for  instance,  are  all  equal,) 
and  in  consequence  of  this  being  true  sees  at  once,  without  any 
actual   experience,   that  some   other   thing   must  be   true  like- 
wise, and  that,  this  being  true,  some  third  thing  must  be  equal- 
ly true,  and  so  on  till  he  comes,  we   will  say,  to  the  properties 
of  the  lever,  considered  as  the  spoke  of  a  circle  ;  which  is  capa- 
ble of  having  all  its  marvellous  powers  demonstrated  even  to  a 
savage    who  had  never  seen  a   lever,   and   without   supposing 
any  other  previous   knowledge   in  his   mind,   but  this  one,  that 
there  is  a  conceivable  figure,  all  possible  lines  from  the  middle 
to    the   circumference  of   which   are  of  the  same    length :    or 
when,  in  the  second  instance,  he  brings  together  the  facts  of 
experience,  each  of  which  has  its  own  separate  value,  neither 
encreased  nor  diminished  by  the  truth  of  any  other  fact  which 
may   have  preceded  it ;  and    making  these  several  facts  bear 
upon  some  particular  project,  and  finding  some  in  favor  of  it, 
and  some  against  the  project,  according  as  one  or  the  other  class 
of  facts  preponderate:  as,   for  instance,  whether  it  would  be 
better  to  plant  a  particular  spot  of  ground  with  larch,  or  with 
Scotch  fir,  or  with  oak  in  preference  to  either.     Surely  every 
man  will  acknowledge,  that  his  mind  was  very  differently  em- 
ployed in  the  first  case  from  what  it  was  in  the  second,  and  all 
men  have  agreed  to  call  the  results  of  the  first  class  the  truths 
of  science,  such  as  not  only  are  true,  but  which  it  is  impossible 
to  conceive  otherwise :  while   the   results  of  the  second  class 
are  called  facts,  or  things  of  experience  :  and  as  to  these  latter 
w-e  must  often  content  ourselves   with  the  greater  probability, 
that  they  are  so,  or  so,  rather  than  otherwise — nay,  even  when 
we  have  no  doubt  that  they  are  so    in  the   particular  case,  we 
nev«r  presume  to  assert  that  they  must  continue  so  always,  and 
unxler  all  circumstances.     On  the  contrary,  our  conclusions  de- 
pend altogether  on  contingent  circumstances.     Now  when  the 
mind  is  employed,  as  in  the  case  first-mentioned,  I  call  it  Bea- 
moning,  or  the  use  of  the  pure   Reason ;    but,  in  the   second 
cBu^e,  the  Understanding  or  Prudence., 

Tliis  i^ason  applied  to  the  motives  of  our  conduct,  ajid  com- 


135 

biued  with  the  sense  of  our  moral  responsibility,  is  the  condi- 
tional cause  of  Conscience^  Avhich  is  a  spiritual  sense  or  testi- 
fying state  of  the  coincidence  or  discordance  of  the  tree  will 
with  the  REASON.  But  as  the  Reasoning  consists  wholly  in  a 
man's  power  of  seeing,  whether  any  two  ideas,  which  happen 
to  be  in  his  mind,  are,  or  are  not  in  contradiction  with  each 
other,  it  follows  of  necessity,  not  only  that  all  men  have  reason, 
but  that  every  man  has  it  in  the  same  degree.  For  Reasoning 
(or  Reason,  in  this  its  secondary  sense)  does  not  consist  in  the 
Ideas,  or  in  their  clearness,  but  simply,  when  they  are  in  the 
mind,  in  seeing  whether  they  contradict  each  other  or  no. 

And  again,  as  in  the  determinations  of  Conscience  the  only 
knowledge  required  is  that  of  my  own  intention — whether  in 
doing  such  a  thing,  instead  of  leaving  it  undone,  I  did  what  I 
should  think  right  if  any  other  person  had  done  it ;  it  follows 
that  in  the  mere  question  of  guilt  or  innocence,  all  men  have 
not  only  Reason  equally,  but  likewise  all  the  materials  on 
which  the  reason,  considered  as  Conscience,  is  to  w^ork.  But 
when  we  pass  out  of  ourselves,  and  speak,  not  exclusively  of 
the  agent  as  meaning  well  or  ill,  but  of  the  action  in  its  con- 
sequences, then  of  course  experience  is  required,  judgement 
in  making  use  of  it,  and  all  those  other  qualities  of  the  mind 
which  are  so  differently  dispensed  to  different  persons,  both  by 
nature  and  education.  And  though  the  reason  itself  is  the  same 
in  all  men,  yet  the  means  of  exercising  it,  and  the  materials 
(i.  e.  the  facts  and  ideas)  on  which  it  is  exercised,  being  pos- 
sessed in  very  different  degrees  by  different  persons,  the 
practical  Result  is,  of  course,  equally  different — and  the  whole 
ground  work  of  Rousseau's  Philosophy  ends  in  a  mere  No- 
thingism. — Even  in  that  branch  of  knowledge,  on  which  the 
ideas,  on  the  congruity  of  w^hich  with  each  other,  the  Reason 
is  to  decide,  are  all  possessed  alike  by  all  men,  namely,  in  Ge- 
ometry, (for  all  men  in  their  senses  possess  all  the  component 
images,  viz.  simple  curves  and  straight  lines)  yet  the  power 
of  attention  required  for  the  perception  of  linked  Truths,  even 
of  such  Truths,  is  so  very  different  in  A  and  in  B,  that  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  professed  that  it  was  in  this  power  only  that  he 
was  superior  to  ordinary  men.  In  short,  the  sophism  is  as  gross 
as  if  I  should  say — The  Souls  of  all  men  have  the  faculty  of 
sight  in  an  equal  degree — forgetting  to  add,  that  this  faculty 
cannot  be  exercised  without  eyes,  and  that  some  men  are  blind 


136 

and  others  short-sighted,  &c. — and  should  then  take  advantage 
of  this  my  omission  to  conclude  against  the  use  or  necessity  of 
spectacles,  microscopes,  &c. — or  of  choosing  the  sharpest  sight- 
ed men  for  our  guides. 

Having  exposed  this  gross  sophism,  I  must  warn  against  an 
opposite  error — namely,  that  if  Reason,  distinguished  from 
Prudence,  consists  merely  in  knowing  that  Black  cannot  be 
White — or  when  a  man  has  a  clear  conception  of  an  inclosed 
figure,  and  another  equally  clear  conception  of  a  straight  line, 
his  Reason  teaches  him  that  these  two  conceptions  are  incom- 
patible in  the  same  object,  i.  e.  that  two  straight  lines  cannot 
include  a  space the  said  Reason  must  be  a  very  insignifi- 
cant faculty.  But  a  moment's  steady  self-reflection  will  shew 
us,  that  in  the  simple  determination  "  Black  is  not  White" — or 
"  that  two  straight  lines  cannot  include  a  space" — all  the  pow- 
ers are  implied,  that  distinguish  Man  from  Animals — first,  the 
power  oi' reflection — 2d.  oi  comparison — 3d.  and  therefore  of 
suspension  of  the  mind — 4th.  therefore  of  a  controlling  will, 
and  the  power  of  acting  from  notions,  instead  of  mere  images 
exciting  appetites ;  from  motives,  and  not  from  mere  dark  I7i- 
stincts.  Was  it  an  insignificant  thing  to  weigh  the  Planets,  to 
determine  all  their  courses,  and  prophecy  every  possible  rela- 
tion of  the  Heavens  a  thousand  years  hence  ?  Yet  all  this 
mighty  chain  of  science  is  nothing  but  a  linking  together  of 
truths  of  the  same  kind,  as,  the  ivhole  is  greater  than  its  part : 
— or,  if  A  and  B  =  C,  then  A  =  B —  or  3  -t-  4  =  7,  therefore 
7  -t-  5  r=  12,  and  so  forth.  X  is  to  be  found  either  in  A  or  B, 
or  C  or  D  :  It  is  not  found  in  A,  B,  or  C,  therefore  it  is  to  be 
found  in  D. — What  can  be  simpler?  Apply  this  to  an  animal — 
a  Dog  misses  his  master  where  four  roads  meet — he  has  come 
up  one,  smells  to  two  of  the  others,  and  then  with  his  head 
aloft  darts  forward  to  the  third  road  without  any  examination. 
If  this  was  done  by  a  conclusion,  the  Dog  would  have  Reason 
— how  comes  it  then,  that  he  never  shews  it  in  his  ordinary 
habits  ?  Why  does  this  story  excite  either  wonder  or  increduli- 
ty ? — If  the  story  be  a  fact,  and  not  a  fiction,  I  should  say — the 
Breeze  brought  his  Master's  scent  down  the  fourth  Road  to  the  • 
Dog's  nose,  and  that  therefore  he  did  not  put  it  down  to  the 
Road,  as  in  the  two  former  instances.  So  aweful  and  almost 
miraculous  does  the  simple  act  of  concluding,  that  take  'i  from 
4,  there  remains  one,  appear  to  us  when  attributed  to  tlie  most 
sagacious  of  all  animals. 


THE    FRIENI>. 


SECTION    THE    FIRST. 


ON       THE 


PRINCIPLES 


POLITICAL     KNOWLEDGE. 


18 


Hoc  potissimum  pacto  felicem  ac  magnum  regem  se  fore  judicans :  non  si 
quam  plurimis  sed  si  quam  optimis  imperet.  Proinde  parum  esse  putat  justis 
prfesidiis  regnum  suum  muniisse,  nisi  idem  viris  eruditione  juxta  ac  vitse  integ- 
ritate  prtKcellentibus  ditet  atque  honestet.  Nimiriun  intelligit ,  haec  demum 
esse  vera  regni  decora,  has  veras  opes. 

Erasmus :  epist.  ad  Episc.  Paris. 


ESSAY     I. 


Dutn  PoLiTici  scppiuscide  hominibus  ma^is  insidiantur  quam  considunt,  potius 
callidiquam  sapientes ;  Theoretici  e  contrario  se  rem  divinam  facere  d  sapi- 
entim  cubnen  attingere  credunt,  quando  humanam  naturam,  qua  nullibi  est, 
midtis  modis  laudare,  et  earn,  qua  re  vera  est,  didis  lacessere  norunt.  Unde 
fadum  est,  td  nunquam  Politicain  conceperint  qua  possit  ad  usum  revocari; 
sed  qua  in  Utopia  vel  in  illo  poetarum  aureo  sacido,  ubi  scilicet  minime  necesse 
erat,  institui  potuissd.  Jit  inihi  jilane  persuadeo,  Experientiam  omnia  civita- 
tum  genera,  qua  concipi  possunt  id  homines  concorditer  vivant,  d  simul  me- 
dia, quibus  midtitudo  dirigi,  seu  quibus  intra  certos  limites  contineri  debeat, 
ostendisse :  ita  ut  nan  credam,  nos  posse  aliquid,  quod  ab  experientia  sive, 
praxi  non  abhorreai,  cogitatione  de  hoc  re  assequi,  quod  nondum  expertum  com- 
pertumque  sit. 

Cum  igitur  animum  ad  Politicam  applicuerim,  nihil  quod  novum  vel  inauditum 
est ;  sed  tantum  ea  qiUB  cum  praxi  optime  conveniunt,  certa  d  indubitata  ra- 
tione  demoiistrare  aut  ex  ipsa  humana  natura  conditione  deducere,  intendi. 
Et  ut  ea  quae  ad  hanc  scientiam  spedant,  eadem  animi  libertate,  qua  res  mathema- 
ticas  solemus,  inquirerem,  sedulo  curavi  humanas  actiones  non  ridere,  non 
lugere,  neque  detestari ;  sed  intelligere.  AVc  ad  imperii  securitatem  refert 
quo  animo  hoinijies  inducantur  ad  res  rede  administrandum,  modo  res  rede  ad- 
ministrentur.  Animi  enim  libertds,  seu  fortitudo,  privata  virtus  est ;  at  impe- 
rii virtus  securitas. 

Spinoza,  op.  Post.  p.  267. 

Translation. — While  the  mere  practical  Statesman  too  often  rather  plots 
against  mankind,  than  consults  their  interest,  crafty  not  wise;  the  mere  The- 
orists, on  the  oflier  hand,  imagine  that  thej"  are  employed  in  a  glorious 
work,  and  believe  themselves  at  the  very  summit  of  earthly  Wisdom,  when 
they  are  able,  in  set  and  varied  language,  to  extol  that  Human  Natin-e,  which 
exists  no  where  (except  indeed  in  their  own  fancy)  and  to  accuse  and  vilify 
our  nature  as  it  really  is.  Hence  it  has  happened,  that  these  men  have  never 
conceived  a  practicable  scheme  of  civil  policy,  but,  at  best,  such  fomis  of 
Government  onlj'^,  as  might  have  lieen  instituted  in  Utopia,  or  during  the  gol- 
den age  of  the  poets:  that  is  to  say,  fonns  of  government  excellently  adapted 
for  those  who  need  no  govern inent  at  all.  But  I  am  fully  persuaded,  ihat  ex- 
perience has  already  brought  to  light  all  conceivable  sorts  of  political  Institu- 
tions under  which  human  society  can  be  maintained  in  concord,  and  like- 
wise the  chief  means  of  directing  the  multitude,  or  retaining  them  within 
given  boundaries:  so  that  I  can  hardly  believe,  that  on  this  subject  the  deep- 
est research  would  arrive  at  any  result,  not  abhorrent  from  expeiience  and 
practice,  which  has  not  been  already  tried  and  proved. 


140 

When,  therefore,  I  applied  my  thoughts  to  the  study  of  PoUtical  Econo- 
my, I  proposed  to  myself  nothing  original  or  strange  as  the  fruits  of  my  re- 
flections; but  simply  to  demonstrate  from  plain  and  undoubted  principles,  or 
to  deduce  from  the  very  condition  and  necessities  of  human  nature,  those 
plans  and  maxims  which  square  the  best  vvidi  piactice.  And  that  in  all 
things  which  relate  to  this  province,  I  might  conduct  my  investigations  with 
the  same  freedom  of  intellect  with  which  we  proceed  in  questions  of  pure 
science,  I  sedulously  disciplined  my  mind  neither  to  laugh  at,  or  bewail,  or 
detest,  the  actions  of  men  ;  but  to  understand  them.  For  to  the  safety  of  the 
state  it  is  not  of  necessary  importance,  what  motives  induce  men  to  adminis- 
ter public  affairs  rightly,  provided  only  that  public  affairs  be  rightly  adminis- 
tered. For  moral  strengtii,  or  freedom  from  the  selfish  passions,  is  the  virtue 
of  individuals ;  but  security  is  the  virtue  of  a  state. 


ON  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

All  the  different  phiiosojjhical  systems  of  political  justice, 
all  the  Theories  on  the  rightful  Origin  of  Government,  are  re- 
ducible in  the  end  to  three  classes,  correspondent  to  the  three 
different  points  of  view,  in  which  the  Human  Being  itself  may 
be  contemplated.  The  first  denies  all  truth  and  distinct  mean- 
ing to  the  words.  Right  and  Duty,  and  affirming  that  the  hu- 
man mind  consists  of  nothing,  but  manifold  modifications  of 
passive  sensation,  considers  men  as  the  highest  sort  of  ani- 
mals indeed,  but  at  the  same  time  the  most  wretched  ;  inas- 
much as  their  defenceless  nature^  forces  them  into  society, 
while  such  is  the  multiplicity  of  wants  engendered  by  the 
social  state,  that  the  wishes  of  one  are  sure  to  be  in  contra- 
diction with  those  of  some  other.  The  assertors  of  this  sys- 
tem consequently  ascribe  the  origin  and  continiiance  of  Gov- 
ernment to  fear,  or  the  power  of  the  stronger,  aided  by  the 
force  of  custom.  This  is  the  systein  of  Hobbes.  Its  state- 
ment is  its  confutation.  It  is,  indeed,  in  the  literal  sense  of 
the  word  prcposte7'ous  :  for  fear  pre-supposes  conquest,  and 
conquest  a  previous  union  and  agreement  between  the  con- 
querors. A  vast  Empire  ma^/  perhaps  be  governed  by  fear; 
at  least  the  idea  is  not  absolutely  inconceivable,  under  circum- 
stances which  prevent  the  consciousness  of  a  comm.on  strength. 
A  million  of  men  united  by  mutual  confidence  and  free  inter- 
course of  thoughts  form  one  power,  and  this  is  as  much  a  real 
thing  as  a  steam  engine ;  but  a  million  of  insulated  individuals 
is  only  an    abstraction  of  the  mind,  and  but  one  told  so  many 


141 

times  over  without  addition,  as  an  ideot  would  tell  the  clock 
at  noon — one,  one,  one,  &c.  But  when,  in  the  first  instances, 
the  descendants  of  one  family  joined  together  to  attack  those  of 
another  family,  it  is  impossible  that  their  chief  or  leader  should 
have  appeared  to  them  stronger  than  all  the  rest  together : 
they  must  therelore  have  chosen  him,  and  this  as  for  particular 
purposes,  so  doubtless  under  particular  conditions,  expressed 
or  understood.  Such  we  know  to  be  the  case  with  the  North 
American  tribes  at  present ;  such  v/e  are  informed  by  History, 
was  the  case  with  our  own  remote  ancestors.  Therefore,  even 
on  the  system  of  those  who,  in  comtempt  of  the  oldest  and 
most  authentic  records,  consider  the  savages  as  the  first  and 
natural  state  of  man,  government  must  have  originated  in  1 
choice  and  an  agreement.  The  apparent  exceptions  in  Africa 
and  Asia  are,  if  possible,  still  more  subversive  of  this  system  : 
for  they  will  be  found  to  have  originated  in  religious  imposture, 
and  the  first  chiefs  to  have  secured  a  willing  and  enthusiastic 
obedience  to  themselves,  as  Delegates  of  the  Deity. 

But  the  whole  Theory  is  baseless.  We  are  told  by  History, 
we  learn  from  our  experience,  we  know  from  our  own  hearts, 
that  fear,  of  itself,  is  utterlj-  incapable  of  producing  any  regu- 
lar, continuous  and  calculable  effect,  even  on  an  individual ; 
and  that  the  fear,  which  does  act  systematically  upon  the  mind 
always  presupposes  a  sense  of  duty,  as  its  cause.  The  most 
cowardly  of  the  European  nations,  the  Neapolitans  and  Sicili- 
ans, those  among  whom  the  fear  of  death  exercises  the  most 
tyrannous  influence  relatively  to  their  own  persons,  are  the  ve- 
ry men  who  least  fear  to  take  away  the  life  of  a  fellow  citizen 
by  poison  or  assassination  ;  while  in  Great  Britain,  a  tyrant 
who  has  abused  the  power,  which  a  vast  property  has  given 
him,  to  oppress  a  whole  neighborhood,  can  walk  in  safety  un- 
armed, and  unattended,  amid  a  hundred  men,  each  of  whom 
feels  his  heart  burn  with  rage  and  indignation  at  the  sight  ot 
him.  "  It  was  this  Man  who  broke  my  Father's  heart" — or 
"  it  is  through  Him  that  my  Children  are  clad  in  rags,  and  cry 
for  the  Food  which  I  am  no  longer  able  to  provide  for  them." 
And  yet  they  dare  not  touch  a  hair  of  his  head  !  Whence 
does  this  arise  ?  Is  it  from  a  cowardice  of  sensibility  that 
makes  the  injured  man  shudder  at  (he  thought  of  shedding 
blood  ?  Or  from  a  cowardice  of  selfishiiess  which  makes  him 
afraid   ol   hazarding   his  own    life  !     Neither   the    one    or  the 


142 

other  !     The  Field  of  Waterloo,  as  the  most  recent  of  an  hun- 
dred equal  proofs,  has  borne  witness, 

That  "  bring  a  Briton  fra  his  hill, 
***** 

Say,  such  is  Royal  George's  will, 
And  there's  the  foe, 
He  has  nae  thought  but  how  to  kill 

Twa  at  a  blow. 
Nae  cauld,  faint-hearted  doubtings  tease  him ; 
Death  comes,  wi'  fearless  eye  he  sees  him , 
Wi'  bloody  hand,  a  welcome  gies  him  ; 

And  when  he  fa's 
His  latest  (h-aught  o'  breathin  leaves  him 

In  faint  huzzas." 

Whence  then  arises  the  difference  of  feeling  in  the  formei 
case  ?  To  what  does  the  oppressor  owe  his  safety  ?  To  the 
spirit-quelling  thought  the  laws  of  God  and  of  my  country 
have  made  his  life  sacred  !  I  dare  not  touch  a  hair  of  his  head  ! 
— "  Tis  Conscience  that  makes  Cowards  of  us  all," — but !  oh  ! 
it  is  Conscience  too  which  makes  Heroes  of  us  all. 


ESSAY     II. 


Le  plusfoH  n^est  jamais  assezfort  pour  itre  toujours  le  maitre,  s^il  ne  transfornie 
sa  force  en  droit  et  Voheissance  en  devoir.  Rousseau. 

Wrihus  parantur  provincim, ']UYe  retinentur.  Igitur  breve  ic/  gaudium,  quippe 
Germani  victi  magis,  quam  domiti.  FiOR.  iv  12. 

Translation. — The  strongest  is  never  strong  enough  to  be  always  the  mas- 
ter, unless  he  transform  his  Power  into  Eight  and  Obedience  into  Duty. 

Rousseau. 

Provinces  are  taken  by  force,  but  they  are  kept  by  right.  This  exultation 
therefore  was  of  brief  continuance,  inasmuch  as  the  Germans  had  been 
overcome,  but  not  subdued.  Florus. 


A  TRULY  great  man,  (the  best  and  greatest  public  character 
that  I  had  ever  the  opportunity  of  making  myself  acquainted 
with)  on  assuming  the  command  of  a  man  of  war,  found  a  mu- 
tinous crew,  more  than  one  half  of  them  uneducated  Irishmen, 
and  of  the  remainder  no  small  portion  had  become  sailors  by 
compromise  of  punishment.     What  terror  could   effect  by  se- 
verity  and  frequency  of  acts  of  discipline,   had  been  already 
effected.     And  what  was  this  effect .''     Something  like  that  of 
a  polar  winter  on  a  flask  of  brandy.     The  furious  spirit  concen- 
tered itself  with  tenfold  strength  at   the   heart ;  open  violence 
was  changed  into  secret  plots  and  conspiracies ;  and  the   con- 
sequent orderliness  of  the  crew,   as  far  as  they  were   orderly, 
was  but  the  brooding  of  a  tempest.     The  new  commander  in- 
stantly commenced  a  system   of  discipline  as  near  as  possible 
to  that  of  ordinary  law — as  much  as  possible,  he  avoided,  in 
his  own  person,  the  appearance  of  any  will  or  arbitrary  power 
to  vary,  or  to  remit,  punishment.     The  rules  to  be   observed 
were  affixed  to  a  conspicuous  part  of  the  ship,  with  the  particu- 
lar penalties  for   the  breach  of  each   particular  rule  ;  and  care 
was  taken  that  every  individual  of  the  ship  should  know  and 


144 

understand  this  code.     With  a  single   exception  in  the  case  of 
mutinous  behavior,  a  space  of  twenty-four  hours  was  appointed 
between  the  first  charge  and  the  second    hearing  of  the  cause, 
at  which  time  the  accused   person  was  permitted  and  required 
to  bring  forward  whatever  he  thought  conducive  to  his  defence 
or   palliation.     If,  as   was  commonly  the  case  (for  the  officers 
well    knew  that    the    commander    would    seriously    resent    in 
them    all   caprice    of  will,  and  by   no  means  permit  to  others 
what  he  denied  to  himself)  if  no  answer  could  be  returned  to 
the  three  questions — Did  you  not  commit   the  act  ?     Did   you 
not  know  that  it  was   in  contempt  of  such  a  rule,   and  in  defi- 
ance of  such  a  punishment?     And  was   it  not   wholly  in   your 
own  power  to  have    obeyed  the  one  and  avoided  the  other?— 
the  sentence  w^as  then  passed  with  the  greatest  solemnity,  and 
another,  but  shorter,   space  of  time    was   again   interposed  be- 
tween it  and  its  actual  execution.     During  this  space  the  feel- 
ings of  the  commander,  as  a  man,  were  so  well   blended  with 
his  inflexibility,  as   the  organ   of  the   law  ;   and    how  much   he 
suffered  previous  to  and  during  the  execution  of  the  sentence 
was  so  well  known  to  the  crew,  that  it  became  a  common  say- 
ing with  them,  when  a  sailor  was  about  to  be  punished,   "  The 
captain  takes  it  more  to  heart  than  the   fellow   himself."     But 
whenever  the   commander  perceived  any   trait  of  pride  in  the 
offender,  or  the  germs  of  any  noble  feeling,  he  lost  no   oppor- 
tunity of  saying,  "  It  is  not  the  pain  that  you  are  about  to  suf- 
fer which   grieves   me  !     You  are   none   of  you,  I   trust,  such 
cowards  as  to   turn  faint-hearted  at  the    thought  of  that !   but 
that,  being  a  man  and  one  who  is  to  fight  for  his  king  and  coun- 
try, you   should   have  made   it  necessary   to  treat  you  as  a  vi- 
cious beast,  it  is  this  that  grieves  me." 

I  have  been  assured,  both  by  a  gentleman  who  was  a  lieu- 
tenant on  board  that  ship  at  the  time  when  the  heroism  of  its 
captain,  aided  by  his  characteristic  calmness  and  foresight, 
greatly  influenced  the  decision  of  the  most  glorious  battle  re- 
corded in  the  annals  of  our  naval  glory  ;  and  very  recently  by 
a  grey-headed  sailor,  who  did  not  even  know  my  name,  or 
could  have  suspected  that  I  was  previously  acquainted  with  the 
circumstances — I  have  been  assured,  1  say,  that  the  success  of 
this  plan  was  such  as  astonished  the  oldest  officers,  and  convin- 
ced the  most  incredulous.  Ruffians,  who  like  the  old  Buccan- 
eers, had  been  used  to  inflict  torture  on  themselves  for  sport,  or 


145 

in  order  to  harden  themselves  beforehand,  were  tamed  and 
overpowered,  how  or  why  they  themselves  knew  not.  From 
the  fiercest  spirits  were  heard  the  most  earnest  entreaties  for 
the  forgiveness  of  their  commander :  not  before  the  punish- 
ment, for  it  was  too  well  known  that  then  they  would  have 
been  to  no  purpose,  but  days  after  it,  when  the  bodily  pain  was 
remembered  but  as  a  dream.  An  invisible  pow  er  it  was,  that 
quelled  them,  a  power,  which  was  therefore  irresistible,  be- 
cause it  took  away  the  very  will  of  resisting.  It  was  the  awe- 
ful  power  of  Law,  acting  on  natures  pre-configured  to  its  influ- 
ences. A  faculty  was  appealed  to  in  the  Offender's  own  being; 
a  Faculty  and  a  Presence,  of  which  he  had  not  been  previously 
made  aware — but  it  ansivered  to  the  appeal !  its  real  existence 
therefore  could  not  be  doubted,  or  its  reply  rendered  inaudible! 
and  the  very  struggle  of  the  wilder  passions,  to  keep  upper- 
most counteracted  its  own  purpose,  by  wasting  in  internal  con- 
test that  energy,  which  before  had  acted  in  its  entirenes  on 
external  resistance  or  provocation.  Strength  may  be  met  with 
strength  ;  the  power  of  inflicting  pain  may  be  baffled  by  the 
pride  of  endurance ;  the  eye  of  rage  may  be  answered  by  the 
stare  of  defiance,  or  the  downcast  look  of  dark  and  reve«geful 
resolve;,  and  with  all  this  there  is  an  outward  and  determined 
object  to  which  the  mind  can  attach  its  passions  and  purposes, 
and  bury  its  own  disquietudes  in  the  full  occupation  of  the 
senses.  But  who  dares  struggle  with  an  invisible  combatant  ? 
with  an  enemy  which  exists  and  makes  us  know  its  existence 
but  where  it  is,  we  ask  in  vain. — No  space  contains  it — time 
promises  no  control  over  it — it  has  no  ear  for  my  threats — it 
has  no  substance,  that  my  hands  can  grasp,  or  my  weapons  find 
vulnerable— it  commands  and  cannot  be  commanded — it  acts 
and  is  insusceptible  of  my  reaction — the  more  I  strive  to  sub- 
due it,  the  more  am  I  compelled  to  think  of  it — and  the  more 
I  think  of  it,  the  more  do  I  find  it  to  possess  a  reality  out  of 
myself,  and  not  to  be  a  phantom  of  my  own  imagination  ;  that 
all,  but  the  most  abandoned  men,  acknowledge  its  authority, 
and  that  the  whole  strength  and  majesty  of  my  country  are 
pledged  to  support  it ;  and  yet  that  for  me  its  power  is  the 
same  with  that  of  my  own  permanent  Self,  and  that  all  the 
choice,  which  is  permitted  to  me,  consists  in  having  it  for  my 
Guardian  Angel  or  my  avenging  Fiend  !  This  is  the  Spirit  of* 
Law  !  the  Lute  of  Amphion,  the  Harp  of  Orpheus  !  This  is 
the  true  necessity,  which  compels  man  into  the  social  state, 
19 


146 

now  and  always,  by  a   still-beginning,   never-ceasing  force   of 
moral  cohesion. 

Thus  is  man  to  be  governed,  and  thus  only  can  he  be  gov- 
erned.     For  from  his  creation  the  objects  of  his  senses  were 
to  become  his  subjects,  and  the  task  allotted  to  him  was  to  sub- 
due the  visible  world  within  the  sphere  of  action  circumscribed 
by  those  senses,   as   far  as   they   could  act   in   concert.     What 
the  eye  beholds  the  hand  strives  to   reach  ;  what  it  reaches,  it 
conquers  and  makes  the  instrument  of  further  conquest.     We 
can  be  subdued  by   that  alone  which   is   analogous   in   kind  to 
that  by  which  we  subdue  :    therefore  by   the   invisible  powers 
of  our  nature,  whose   immediate   presence  is   disclosed   to   our 
inner  sense,  and  only  as  the  symbols  and  language  of  which  all 
shapes  and  modifications  of  matter  become  formidable  to  us. 
.    A  machine  continues  to   move  by  the  force   Avhich  first  set 
it  in  motion.     If  only  the   smallest   number  in  any   state,   pro- 
perly so  called,  hold  together  through  the  influence  of  any  fear 
that  does  not  itself  presuppose  the  sense  of  duty,  it  is  evident 
that  the  state  itself  could  not  have  commenced  through  animal 
fear.     We  hear,  indeed,   of  conquests  ;  but  how   does  History 
represent  these  ?     Almost  without  exception  as  the  substitu- 
tion of  one  set  of  governors  for  another  :  and  so  far  is  the  con- 
queror  from  relying  on  fear  alone  to  secure  the  obedience  of 
the  conquered,  that  his  first  step  is  to  demand  an  oath  of  feal- 
ty from  them,  by  which  he   would   impose  upon  them  the  be- 
lief, that  they  become  subjects :   for  Avho  would   think  of  ad- 
ministering an  oath  to  a  gang  of  slaves?     But  what  can  make 
the   difference  between  slave   and  subject,  if  ^lot  the  existence 
of  an  implied  contract  in  the  one   case,  and   not   in  the  other? 
And  to  what  purpose   would    a   contract  serve    if,   however  it 
might  be  entered  into  through  fear,  it  were   deemed  binding 
only  in  consequence  of  fear  ?     To   repeat   my   former  illustra- 
tion— where   fear   alone    is  relied  on,   as  in   a   slave    ship,   the 
chains  that  bind   the  poor   victims  must  be  material  chains  :  for 
these  only  can  act  upon  feelings  which  have  their  source  wholly 
in  the  material  organization.     Hobbes  has  said  that  Laws  with- 
out the  sv/ord  are  but  bits  of  parchment.     How  far  this  is  true, 
every  honest  man's  heart  will  best  tell  him,   if  he  will  content 
himself  with  asking  his  own   heart,  and  not  falsify   the  answer 
by  his  notions  concerning  the  hearts  of  other  men.     But  were 
it  true,  still  the  fair  answer  would  be — Well  !  but  without  the 
Laws  the  sword  is  but  a  piece  of  iron.     The  wretched  tyrant, 


147 

who  disgraces  the  present  age  and  human  nature  itself,  had 
exhausted  the  whole  magazine  of  animal  terror,  in  order  to 
consolidate  his  truly  satanic  Government.  But  look  at  the  new 
French  catechism,  and  in  it  read  the  misgivings  of  the  mon- 
ster's mind,  as  to  the  insufficiency  of  terror  alone  !  The  sys- 
tem, which  I  have  been  confuting,  is  indeed  so  inconsistent 
with  the  facts  revealed  to  us  by  our  own  mind,  and  so  utterly 
unsupported  by  any  facts  of  History,  that  I  should  be  censura- 
ble in  wasting  my  own  time  and  ray  Reader's  patience  by  the 
exposure  of  its  falsehood,  but  that  the  arguments  adduced  have 
a  value  of  themselves  independent  of  their  present  application. 
Else  it  would  have  been  an  ample  and  satisfactory  reply  to  an 
assertor  of  this  bestial  Theory — Government  is  a  thing  which 
relates  to  men,  and  what  you  say  applies  only  to  beasts. 

Before  I  proceed  to  the  second  of  the  three  Systems,  let  me 
remove  a  possible  misunderstanding  that  may  have  arisen  from 
the  use  of  the  word  Contract :  as  if  I  had  asserted,  that  the 
whole  duty  of  obedience  to  Governors  is  derived  from,  and 
dependent  on,  the  fact  of  an  original  Contract.  I  freely  ad- 
mit, that  to  make  this  the  cause  and  origin  of  political  obliga- 
tion, is  not  only  a  dangerous  but  an  absurd  Theor}^  ;  for  what 
could  give  moral  force  to  the  Contract  ?  The  same  sense  of 
Duty  which  binds  us  to  keep  it,  must  have  pre-existed  as  im- 
pelling us  to  make  it.  For  what  man  in  his  senses  would  re- 
gard the  faithful  observation  of  a  contract  entered  into  to  plun- 
der a  neighbor's  house  but  as  a  treble  crime  ?  First  the  act, 
which  is  a  crime  of  itself; — secondly,  the  entering  into  a  Con- 
tract which  it  is  a  crime  to  observe,  and  yet  a  weakening  of  one 
of  the  main  pillars  of  human  confidence  not  to  observe,  and  thus 
voluntarily  placing  ourselves  under  the  necessity  of  choosing 
between  two  evils  ; — and  thirdly,  the  crime  of  chusing  the 
greater  of  the  two  evils,  by  the  unlawful  observance  of  an  un- 
lawful promise.  But  in  my  sense,  the  word  Contract  is  mere- 
ly synoniraous  with  the  sense  of  duty  acting  in  a  specific  direc- 
tion, i.  e.  determining  our  moral  relations,  as  members  of  a 
body  politic.  If  I  have  referred  to  a  supposed  origin  of  Gov- 
ernment, it  has  been  in  courtesy  to  a  common  notion  :  for  I 
myself  regard  the  supposition  as  no  more  than  a  means  of  sim- 
plifying to  our  apprehension  the  ever-continuing  causes  of  social 
union,  even  as  the  conservation  of  the  world  may  be  represented 
as  an  act  of  continued  Creation.  For,  what  if  an  original 
Contract  had  really  been  entered   into,  and  formally  recorded  ? 


148 

Still  it  could  do  no  more  than  bind  the  contracting  parties  to 
act  for  the  general  good  in  the  best  manner,  that  the  existing 
relations  among  themselves,  (state  of  property,  religion,  &c.) 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  external  circumstances  on  the  other 
(ambitious  or  barbarous  neighbors,  &c.)  required  or  permit- 
ted. In  after  times  it  could  be  appealed  to  only  for  the  gen- 
eral principle,  and  no  more  than  the  ideal  Contract,  could 
it  affect  a  question  of  ways  and  means.  As  each  particular 
age  brings  with  it  its  own  exigencies,  so  must  it  rely  on  its 
own  prudence  for  the  specific  measures  by  which  they  are  to 
be  encountered. 

Nevertheless,  it  assuredly  cannot  be  denied,  that  an  original 
(in  reality,  rather  an  ever-originating)  Contract  is  a  very  natu- 
ral and  significant  mode  of  expressing  the  reciprocal  duties  of 
subject  and  sovereign.  We  need  only  consider  the  utility  of 
a  real  and  formal  State  Contract,  the  Bill  of  Rights  for  in- 
stance, as  a  sort  of  est  demonstratum  in  politics  ;  and  the  con- 
tempt lavished  on  this  notion,  though  sufficiently  compatible 
with  the  tenets  of  a  Hume,  will  seem  strange  to  us  in  the  wri- 
tings of  a  Protestant  clergyman,  who  surely  owed  some  respect 
to  a  mode  of  thinking  which  God  himself  had  authorized  by 
his  own  example,  in  the  establishment  of  the  Jewish  constitu- 
tion. In  this  instance  there  was  no  necessity  for  deducing  the 
will  of  God  from  the  tendency  of  the  Laws  to  the  general  hap- 
piness :  his  will  was  expressly  declared.  Nevertheless,  it 
seemed  good  to  the  divine  wisdom,  that  there  should  be  a  co- 
venant, an  original  contract,  between  himself  as  sovereign,  and 
the  Hebrew  nation  as  subjects.  This,  I  admit,  was  a  writieM 
and  formal  Contract  ;  but  the  relations  of  mankind,  as  mem- 
bers of  a  body  spiritual,  or  religious  commonwealth,  to  the 
Saviour,  as  its  head  or  regent — is  nai  this  too  styled  a  covenant, 
though  it  would  be  absurd  to  ask  for  the  material  instrument 
that  contained  it,  or  the  time  when  it  was  signed  or  voted  by 
the  members  of  the  church  collectively.* 


*  It  is  j)crl)aps  to  be  regretted,  that  the  words,  Old  and  New  Testament, 
they  having  lost  the  sense  intended  by  the  translators  of  the  Bible,  have  not 
been  changed  into  the  Old  and  New  Covenant.  We  cannot  too  carehdly  keep 
in  sight  a  r.otion,  which  appeared  to  the  primitive  church  the  fittest  and  most 
scri})tujal  n\cn\p>  of  representing  the  Mim  of  the  contents  of  the  sacred  wri- 
tings. 


149 

With  this  explanation,  the  assertion  of  an  original  (still  bet- 
ter, of  a  perpetual)  Contract  is  rescued  from  all  rational  ob- 
jection ;  and  however  speciously  it  may  be  urged,  tliat  History 
can  scarcely  produce  a  single  example  of  a  state  dating  its  pri- 
mary establishment  from  a  free  and  mutual  covenant,  the  answer 
is  ready  :  if  there  be  any  difference  between  a  Government 
and  a  band  of  robbers,  an  act  of  consent  must  be  supposed  on 
the  part  of  the  people  governed. 


E  S  S  A  1' 


Human  institutions  cannot  be  wliolly  constructed  on  principles  of  Science, 
which  is  proper  to  immutable  objects.  In  the  government  of  the  visible 
world  the  supreme  Wisdom  itself  submits  to  be  the  Author  of  the  Better: 
not  of  the  Best,  but  of  the  Best  possible  in  the  subsisting  Relations.  Much 
more  must  all  human  Legislators  give  way  to  many  Evils  rather  than  en- 
courage the  Discontent  that  would  lead  to  worse  Remedies.  If  it  is  not  in 
the  power  of  man  to  construct  even  the  arch  of  a  Bridge  that  shall  exact- 
ly correspond  in  its  strength  to  the  cal  ulations  of  Geometry,  how  much 
less  can  human  Science  construct  a  Constitution  except  by  rendering  it- 
self flexible  to  Experience  and  Expediency:  where  so  many  things  must 
fall  on!  Scctdentalty,  and  come  not  into  any  com|)liance  with  the  precon- 
ceived ends;  but  men  are  forced  to  comply  subsequeruly,  and  to  strike  in 
with  thnigs  as  they  fall  out,  by  after  applications  of  them  to  their  j)urj)0S03, 
or  by  framing  their  purposes  to  them.  South. 


The  second  system  corresponds  to  the  second  point  of  view 
under  which  the  human  being  may  be  considered,  namely,  as 
an  animal  gifted  with  understanding,  or  the  faculty  of  suiting 
measures  to  circumstances.  According  to  this  theory,  every 
institution  of  national  origin  needs  no  other  justitution  than  a 


160 

proof,  that  under  the  particular  circumstances  it  is  expedient. 
Having  in  my  former  Numbers  expressed  myself  (so  at  least  I 
am  conscious  I  shall  have  appeared  to  do  to  many  persons)  with 
comparative  slight  of  tlie  understanding  considered  as  the  sole 
guide  of  human  conduct,  and  even  with  something  like  con- 
enipt  and  reprobation  of  the  maxims  of  expedience,  when 
represented  as  the  only  steady  light  of  the  conscience,  and  the 
absolute  foundation  of  all  morality ;  I  shall  perhaps  seem  guilty 
of  an  inconsistency,  in  declaring  myself  an  adherent  of  this  sec- 
ond system,  a  zealous  advocate  for  deriving  the  origin  of  all  gov- 
ernment from  human  prudence ^  and  of  deeming  that  to  be  just 
which  experience  has  proved  to  be  expedient.  From  this 
charge  of  inconsistency*  I  shall  best  exculpate  myself  by  the 
full  statement  of  the  third  system,^and  by  the  exposition  of  its 
grounds  and  consequences. 

The  third  and  last  S}»»tem-4hen  denies   all  rightful  origin  to 


^Distinct  notions  do  not  sup})ose  difterent  things.  Wlien  we  make  a  three- 
fold distinction  in  liuirian  nature,  we  are  fully  aware,  thai  it  is  a  distinction 
not  a  division,  and  that  in  every  act  of  Mind  the  Man  unites  the  properties  of 
Sense,  Understanding,  and  Reason.  Nevertheless,  it  is  of  great  practical  im- 
portance, that  these  distinctions  should  be  made  and  understood,  the  igno- 
rance or  perversion  of  them  being  alike  injurious ;  as  the  first  French  Con- 
stitution has  most  lamentably  proA'cd.  It  was  fashion  in  the  profligate  times 
of  Charles  the  Second,  to  laugh^at  the  Presbyterians,  for  distinguishing  be- 
tween the  Person  and  the  King;  while  in  fact  they  were  ridiculing  the  most 
venerable  niaxi)ns  of  English  Law  ; — (the  King  never  dies — the  King  can 
do  no  wrong,  &c.)  and  subverting  the  principles  of  genuine  loi/alty,  in  ord(?r 
to  ]ne])are  the  minds  of  the  people  for  despotism. 

Under  the  term  Se;sse,  I  comprise,  whatever  is  passive  in  our  being,  ^^'itb- 
out  any  reference  to  ths  questions  of  Materialism  or  Immaterialism  ;  all  that 
man  is  in  comnicn  with  animals,  in  Idnd  at  least — his  sensations,' and  impress- 
ions, whether  of  his  outwaid  senses,  or  the  inner  sense  of  imagination.  Tiiis 
in  the  language  of  the  Schools,  was  called  the  vis  receptiva,  or  recipient  pro- 
perty of  the  soul,  from  the  original  constitution  of  which  we  perceive  and 
imagine  all  things  under  the  forms  of  space  and  time.  By^the  u>'derstand- 
i.NG,  1  mean  ihe  faculty  of  thinking  and  forming  judgments  on  the  notices 
funiisiicd  by  the  sense,  according  to  certain  rides  existing  in  itself,  which 
rules  constitute  its  distinct  nature.  By  the  pure  Keasox,  1  mean  the  power 
by  which  we  become  possessed  of  principle,  (tlic  eternal  verities  of  Plato 
and  Descartes)  and  of  ideas,  (N.  B.  not  images)  as  the  ideas  of  a  point,  a  line, 
a  circle,  in  Mathematics;  and  of  .Justice,  Holiness,  Free- Will,  &c.  in  Mo- 
rals. Hence  in  works  of  pure  science  the  definitions  of  necessity  precede 
the  reasoning,  in  other  works  they  more  aptly  form  the  conclusion. 

To  many  of  my  readers  it  will,  I  trust,  be  some-rerommendation  of  these 


151 

government,  except  as  far  as  they  are  derivable  from  principles 
contained  in  the  reason  of  Man,  and  judges  all  the  relations 
of  men  in  Society  by  the  Laws  of  moral  necessity,  according  to 
IDEAS  (1  here  use  the  word  in  its  highest  and  primitive  sense, 
and  as  nearly  synonimous  with  the  modern  word  ideal)  accord- 
ing to  archetypal  ideas  co-essential  with  the  Reason,  and  the 
consciousness  of  which  is  the  sign  and  necessary  product  of  its 
full  developement.  The  following  then  is  the  fundamental 
principle  of  this  theory:  Nothing  is  to  be  deemed  riglitful  in 
civil  society,  or  to  be  tolerated  as  such,  but  what  is  capable  of 
being  demonstrated  out  of  the  original  laws  of  the  pure  Rea- 
son. Of  course,  as  there  is  but  one  system  of  Geometry,  so 
according  to  this  theory  there  can  be  but  one  constitution  and 
one  system  of  legislation,  and  this  consists  in  the  freedom, 
which  is  the  common  right  of  all  men,  under  the  control  of  that 
moral  necessity,  which  is  the  common  duty  of  all  men.  What- 
ever is  not  every  ivhere  necessary,  is  no  where  right.  On  this 
assumption  the  whole  theory  is  built.  To  state  it  nakedly  is  to 
confute  it  satisfactorily.  So  at  least  it  should  seem!  But  in 
how  winning  and  specious  a  manner  this  system  may  be  repre- 
sented even  to  minds  of  the  loftiest  order,  if  undisciplined  and 
unhumbled  by  practical  experience,  has  been  proved  by  the 
general  impassioned  admiration  and  momentous  effects  of  Rou- 
seau's  Dii  Contrat  Social,  and  the  writings  of  the  French 
economists,  or  as  they  more  appropriately  entitled  themselves, 


distinctions,  that  they  are  more  than  once  expressed,  and  every  where  sup- 
posed, in  tlie  writings  of  St.  Paid.  I  have  no  hesitation  in  undertaking  to 
prove,  that  every  Heresy  which  lias  disquieted  the  Christian  Churcli,  from 
Tritheism  to  Socinianism,  has  originated  in,  and  supported  itself  by,  argu- 
ments rendered  plausible  only  by  tlie  confusion  of  tliese  faculties,  and  thus 
demanding  for  the  objects  of  one,  a  sort  of  evidence  appropriated  to  those  of 
another  faculty. — These  disquisitions  have  the  misfortune  of  being  in  ill-re- 
])ort,  as  dry  and  unsatisfactory ;  but  I  hope,  in  the  coiu-se  of  the  work,  to 
gain  tliem  a  better  character — and  if  elucidations  of  their  practical  impor- 
tance from  the  most  momentous  events  of  History,  can  i-ender  them  interesting, 
to  give  them  that  interest  at  least.  Besides,  there  is  surely  some  good  in  the 
knowledge  of  Truth,  as  Truth — (we  were  not  made  to  live  by  Bread  alone) 
and  in  the  strengthening  of  the  intellect.  It  is  an  exellent  Remark  of  Sca- 
liger's — "  Harum  indagatio  Suhtilitafmn,  eisi  non  est  idills  ad  machinas  fari- 
narias  conftciendas,  exuit  animum  tamcn  inscilice  mbigine  acmtque  ad  aha." 
ScALiG.  Exerc.  307.  §§  3.  i.  e.  The  investigation  of  these  subileties,  though 
it  is  of  no  use  to  the  construction  of  machines  to  grind  corn  with,  yet  clears 
the  mind  from  the  rust  of  ignorance,  and  sharpens  it  for  other  thing* 


152 

Physiocratic  Philosophers :  and  in  how  tempting  and  danger- 
ous a  manner  it  may  be  represented  to  the  populace,  has  been 
made  too  evident  in  our  own  country  by  the  temporary  effects 
of  Paine's  Rights  of  Man.  Relatively,  however,  to  this  latter 
work  it  should  be  observed,  that  it  is  not  a  legitimate  offspring 
of  any  one  theory,  but  a  confusion  of  the  immorality  of  the 
first  system  with  the  misapplied  universal  principles  of  the 
last :  and  in  this  union,  or  rather  lawless  alternation,  consists  the 
essence  of  Jacobinism,  as  far  as  Jacobinism  is  any  thing  but  a 
term  of  abuse,  or  has  any  meaning  of  its  own  distinct  from  de- 
mocracy and  sedition. 

A  constitution  equally  suited  to  China  and  America,  or  to 
Russia  and  Great  Brittain,  must  surely  be  equally  unfit  for  both, 
and  deserve  as  little  respect  in  political,  as  a  quack's  panacsea 
in  medical  practice.  Yet  there  are  three  weighty  motives  for 
a  distinct  exposition  of  this  theory,*  and  of  the  ground  on 
which  its  pretentions  are  bottomed:  and  I  care  affirm,  that  for 
the  same  reasons  there  are  few  subjects  which  in  the  present 
state  of  the  world  have  a  fairer  claim  to  the  attention  of  every 
serious  Englishman,  who  is  likely,  directly  or  indirectly,  as 
partizan  or  as  opponent,  to  interest  himself  in  schemes  of  Re- 
form. 

The  first  motive  is  derived  from  the  propensity  of  mankind 
to  mistake  the  feelings  of  disappointment,  disgust,  and  abhor- 
ance  occasioned  by  the  unhappy  effects  or  accompaniments  of 
a  particular  system  for  an  insight  into  the  falshood  of  its  princi- 
ples which  alone  can  secure  its  permanent  rejection.  For  by 
a  wise  ordinance  of  nature  our  feelings  have  no  abiding-place 
in  our  memory,  nay  the  more  vivid  they  are  in  the  moment  of 
their  existence  the  more  dim  and  difficult  to  be  remembered  do 
they  make  the  thoughts  which  accompanied  them.  Those  of 
my  readers  who  at  any  tin:e  of  their  life  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  reading  novels  may  easily  convince  themselves  of  this  Truth 


*As"METAPiiysics"  are  the  science  wliich  determines  what  can,  and  what 
cannot,  be  known  of  Being  and  the  Laws  of  Being,  a  priori  (that  is  from 
those  necessities  of  the  mind  or  forms  of  tliinking,  which,  though  fiist  re- 
vealed to  us  hy  experience,  must  yet  have  pre-existed  in  order  to  make  ex- 
perience itself  possihle.  even  as  the  eye  must  exist  previous  to  any  particular 
act  of  seeing,  though  by  sight  only  can  we  know  that  we  have  eyes) — so 
might  the  philosophy  of  Rousseau  and  his  followers  not  inaptly  bo  entitled 
Metai'olitics,  and  the  Doctors  of  this  School,  Metapoliticians. 


153 

by  comparing  their  recollections  of  those  stories,  which  most 
excited  their  curiosity  and  even  painl'ully  affected  their  feel- 
ings, with  their  recollections  of  the  calm  and  meditative  pathos 
of  Shakspeare  and  Milton.  Hence  it  is  that  human  experi- 
ence, like  the  stern  lights  of  a  ship  at  sea,  illumines  only  the 
path  which  we  have  passed  over.  The  horror  of  the  Peasant's 
War  in  Germany,  and  the  direful  effects  of  the  Anabaptist  te- 
nets, which  were  only  nominally  different  from  those  of  Jacobin- 
ism by  the  substitution  of  religious  for  philosophical  jargon, 
struck  all  Europe  for  a  time  with  affright.  Yet  little  more  than 
a  century  was  sufficient  to  obliterate  all  effective  memory  of 
those  events:  the  same  principles  budded  forth  anew  and  pro- 
duced the  same  fruits  from  the  imprisonment  of  Charles  the 
First  to  the  restoration  of  his  Son.  In  the  succeeding  genera- 
tions, to  the  follies  and  vices  of  the  European  Courts,  and  to 
the  oppressive  privileges  of  the  nobility,  were  again  transfer- 
ed  those  feelings  of  disgust  and  hatred,  which  for  a  brief  while 
the  multitude  had  attached  to  the  crimes  and  extravagances  of 
political  and  religious  fanaticism  :  and  the  same  principles  aid- 
ed by  circumstances,  and  dressed  out  in  the  ostentatious  garb 
of  a. fashionable  philosophy,  once  more  rose  triumphant,  and  ef- 
fected the  French  Revolution.  That  man  has  reflected  little 
on  human  nature  who  does  not  perceive  that  the  detestable 
maxims  and  correspondent  crimes  of  the  existing  French  des- 
potism, have  already  dimmed  the  recollections  of  the  democrat- 
ic phrenzy  in  the  minds  of  men ;  by  little  and  little,  have 
drawn  off  to  other  objects  the  electric  force  of  the  feelings, 
which  had  massed  and  upheld  those  recollections;  and  that  a 
favourable  concurrence  of  occasions  is  alone  wanting  to  awak- 
en the  thunder  and  precipitate  the  lightning  from  the  opposite 
quarter  of  the  political  Heaven.*  The  true  origin  of  human 
events  is  so  little  susceptible  of  that  kind  of  evidence  which 
can  compel  our  belief  even  against  our  will ;  and  so  many  are 
the  disturbing  forces  which  modify  the  motion  given  by  the 
first  projection  ;  and  every  age  has,  or  imagines  it  has,  its  own 
circumstances  which  render  past  experience  no  longer  applica- 
ble to  the  present  case  ;  that  there  will  never  be  wanting  an- 
swers and    explanations,    and    specious    flatteries  of  hope.     I 

*The  Reader  will  recollect  that  thesi  Essays  wers  first  published  in  1809. 
20 


154 

well  remember,  that  when  the  examples  of  former  Jacobins, 
Julius  Csesar,  Cromwell,  &c.  were  adduced  in  France  and  En- 
gland at  the  commencement  of  the  French  Consulate,  it  was 
ridiculed  as  pedantry  and  pedants'  ignorance,  to  fear  a  repeti- 
tion of  such  usurpation  at  the  close  of  the  enlightened  eighteenth 
century.  Those  who  possess  the  Moniteurs  of  that  date  will 
find  set  proofs,  that  such  results  were  little  less  than  impossible, 
and  that  it  was  an  insult  to  so  philosophical  an  age,  and  so  en- 
lightened a  nation,  to  dare  direct  the  public  eye  towards  them 
as  lights  of  admonition  and  warning. 

It  is  a  common  foible  with  official  statesmen,  and  with  those 
who  deem  themselves   honored  by   their   acquaintance,   to  at- 
tribute great  national  events  to  the  influence  of  particular  per- 
sons,  to  the  errors  of  one  man  and  to   the  intrigues  of  another, 
to  any  possible   spark  of  a   particular  occasion,   rather  than  to 
the  true  cause,  the  predominant  state  of  public  opinion.     I  have 
known  men  who,  with  most  significant  nods,  and  the  civil  con- 
tempt of  pitying  half  smiles,  have  declared  the  natural  expla- 
nation of  the  French  Revolution,  to  be  the  mere  fancies  of  Gar- 
retteers,   and  then  with   the   solemnity  of  Cabinet  Ministers, 
have  proceeded  to  explain  the  whole  by  anecdotes.     It  is  so 
stimulant  to  the  pride  of  a  vulgar   mind,   to  be   persuaded  that 
it  knows   what   few   others   know   and    that    it   is    the   impor- 
tant depository  of   a  sort   of  state    secret,   by   communicating 
which  it  confers   an  obligation   on  others  !     But   I    have  like- 
wise met  with    men   of  intelligence,  who  at  the   commence- 
ment of  the   Revolution    were  travelling  on   foot  through   the 
French   provinces,  and  they  bear  witness,  that   in   the   remo- 
test villages  every  tongue  was  employed   in  echoing   and   en- 
forcing the  doctrines  of  the   Parisian  Journalists,  that  the  pub- 
lic  highways   were   crowded  with  enthusiasts,   some  shouting 
the  watch-words   of  the   revolution,    others    disputing  on  the 
most  abstract  principles  of  the   universal   constitution,  which 
they  fully  believed,  that  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  were  short- 
ly to  adopt ;  the  most  ignorant   among   them   confident   of  his 
fitness  for  the  highest   duties   of  a   legislator;  and  all  prepared 
to  shed  their  blood  in  the  defence  of  the  inalienable  sovereign- 
ty of  the  self-governed  people.     The  more  abstract  the  notions 
were,  with  the  closer  affinity  did  they  combine  with  the  most 
fervent    feelings    and    all    the    immediate   impulses    to  action. 
The  Lord  Chancellor  Bacon  lived  in  an  age  of  court  intrigues, 
and  was  familiarly  acquainted  with   all  the   secrets   of  personal 


155 

influence.  He,  if  any  man,  was  qualified  to  take  the  guage 
and  measurement  of  their  comparative  power,  and  he  has  told 
us,  that  there  is  one,  and  but  one  infallible  source  of  political 
prophecy,  the  knowledge  of  the  predominant  opinions  and  the 
speculative  principles  of  men  in  general,  between  the  age  of 
twenty  and  thirty.  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  the  favorite  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  the  paramount  gentleman  of  Europe,  the  nephew, 
and  (as  far  as  a  good  man  could  be)  the  confidante  of  the  in- 
triguing and  dark-minded  Earl  of  Leicester,  was  so  deeply 
convinced  that  the  principles  diffused  through  the  majority  of 
a  nation  are  the  true  oracles  from  whence  statesmen  are  to 
learn  wisdom,  and  that  "  when  the  people  speak  loudly  it  is 
from  their  being  strongly  possessed  either  by  the  godhead  or 
the  daemon,"  that  in  the  revolution  of  the  Netherlands  he  con- 
sidered the  universal  adoption  of  one  set  of  principles,  as  a 
proof  of  the  divine  presence.  "  If  her  majesty,"  '^ays  he 
"  were  the  fountain,  I  would  fear,  considering  what  I  daily 
find,  that  we  should  wax  dry.  But  she  is  but  a  means  which 
God  useth."  But  if  my  Readers  wish  to  see  the  question  of 
the  eflScacy  of  principles  and  popular  opinions  for  evil  and 
for  good  proved  and  JUustrated  with  an  eloquence  worthy  of 
the  subject,  I  can  refer  them  with  the  hardiest  anticipation 
of  their  thanks,  to  the  late  work  "  concerning  the  relations  of 
Great  Britain,  Spain  and  Portugal,  by  my  honored  friend, 
William  Wordsworth*  quern  quoties  lego^  non  verba  niihi  vi- 
deor  audire,  sed  tonitrua  ! 


*  I  consider  this  reference  to,  and  strong  recommendation  of  the  Works 
above  mentioned,  not  as  a  voluntary  tribute  of  admiration,  but  as  an  act  of 
mere  justice  both  to  myself  and  to  the  readers  of  The  Friead.  My  own 
heart  bears  me  witness,  that  I  am  actuated  by  the  dei-pest  sense  of  the  truth 
of  the  principles,  which  it  has  been  and  still  more  will  be  my  endeavor  to 
enforce,  and  of  their  paramount  importance  to  the  well-being  of  Society  at 
tlie  present  juncture;  and  that  the  duty  of  making  the  attempt,  and  the  hope 
of  not  wholly  falling  m  it,  are,  far  more  than  the  wish  for  the  doubtful  good 
of  hterary  reputation,  or  any  yet  meaner  oijject,  my  great  and  ruling  motives. 
Mr.  Wordsworth  I  deem  a  fellow-laborer  in  the  same  vineyard,  actuated  by 
the  same  motives  and  teaching  the  same  principles,  but  with  far  greater  j»ow- 
ers  of  mind,  and  an  eloquence  more  adequate  to  the  importance  and  majesty 
of  the  cause.  I  am  strengthened  too  by  the  knowledge,  that  I  am  not  un- 
authorized by  the  sympathy  of  many  wise  and  good  men,  and  men  acknow- 
ledged as  such  by  the  Public,  in  my  admiration  of  his  pamphlet, — JVcque  enim 
debet  operibus  ejits  obesse,  quod  vivit.     An  si  infer  cos,  quos  nunqmtm  vidimus, 


166 

That  erroneous  political  notions  (they  having  become  general 
and  a  part  of  the  popular  creed,)  have  practical  consequences, 
and  these,  of  course,  of  a  most  fearful  nature,  is  a  truth  as  cer- 
tain as  historic  evidence  can  make  it  :  and  that  when  the  feel- 
ings excited  by  these  calamities  have  passed  away,  and  the  in- 
terest in  them  has  been  displaced  by  more  recent  events,  the 
same  errors  are  likely  to  be  started  afresh,  pregnant  with  the 
same  calamities,  is  an  evil  rooted  in  Human  Nature  in  the  pre- 
sent state  of  general  information,  for  which  we  have  hitherto 
found  no  adequate  remedy.  (It  may,  perhaps  in  the  scheme  of 
Providence,  be  proper  and  conducive  to  its  ends,  that  no  ade- 
quate remedy  should  exist :  for  the  folly  of  men  is  the  wisdom 
of  God.)     But  if  there  be  any  means,  if  not  of  preventing,  yet 

JJoruisset,  von  solum  lihros  ejus,  verum  ctiam  i7naghics  conquinrejiius,  cjiisdem 
mmc  hondr  prcEsentis,  et  gratia  quasi  satietale  languescet  ?  ^t  hoc  pravwn,  mal- 
ignumque  est,  nan  adniirari  hominem  adiniratione  dignissiiman,  quia  videre^ 
complecii,  nee  laudare  iantum,  verum  etiam  amare  contingit.  Plin.  Ef)ist.  Lib.  I. 
It  is  hardly  possible  for  a  man  of  ingenuous  mind  to  act  under  the  fear  that 
it  shall  be  suspected  by  honest  men  of  the  vileuess  of  praising  a  work  to  the 
public,  merely  because  he  happens,  to  be  personally  acquainted  Avith  the 
Author.  That  this  is  so  commonly  done  in  Reviews,  furnishes  only  an  addi- 
tional proof  of  the  morbid  hardness  produced  in  the  moral  sense  by  the  habit 
of  writing  anonymous  criticisms,  especially  under  the  further  disguise  of  a 
pi'etended  board  or  association  of  Critics,  each  man  expressing  himself,  to 
use  the  words  of  Andrew  JMarveJ,  as  a  synodical  individuum.  With  regard 
however,  to  the  probability  of  tlie  judgment  being  warped  by  partiality,  I  can 
only  say  that  I  judge  of  all  Works  indifferently  by  certain  fixed  rules  previ- 
ously formed  in  my  mind  with  all  the  power  and  vigilance  of  my  judgment ; 
and  that  I  siiould  certainly  of  the  two  apply  them  with  greater  rigor  to  tlie 
production  of  a  friend  than  that  of  a  person  indifferent  to  me.  But  wherever 
I  find  in  any  Work  all  the  conditions  of  excellence  in  its  kind,  it  is  not  the 
accider.t  of  the  Authors  being  my  cotemporary  or  even  my  friend,  or  the 
sneers  of  bad-hearted  men,  that  shall  prevent  me  from  speaking  of  it,  as  in 
my  inmost  convictions  I  deem  it  deserves. 

no,  friend ! 


Though  it  be  now  the  fashion  to  commend. 
As  men  of  strong  minds,  those  alone  who  can 
CensxLre  with  judgment,  no  such  piece  of  man 
Makes  up  my  spirit :  where  desert  does  live, 
There  will  I  plant  my  wonder,  and  there  give 
My  best  endeavors  to  build  up  his  glory, 
That  truly  merits ! 

Recommendatory  T^erse^  to  one  of  the  old  Plays' 


157 

of  palliating  the  disease  and,  in  the  more  favored  nations,  of 
checking  its  progress  at  the  first  symptoms;  and  if  these  means 
are  to  be  at  all  compatible  Avith  the  civil  and  intellectual  free- 
dom of  mankind  ;  they  are  to  be  found  only  in  an  intelligible 
and  tliorough  exposure  of  the  error,  and,  thiough  that  discove- 
ry, of  the  source,  from  which  it  derives  its  speciousness  and 
powers  of  influence  on  the  human  mind.  This  therefore  is 
my  first  motive  for  undertaking  the  disquisition. 

The  second  is,  that  though  the  French  code  of  revolutionary 
principles  is  now  generally  rejected  as  a  system^  yet  everywhere 
in  the  speeches  and  writings  of  the  English  reformers,  nay,  not 
seldom  in  those  of  their  opponents,  I  find  certain  maxims  assert- 
ed or  appealed  to,  which  are  not  tenable,  except  as  constituent 
parts  of  that  system.  Manj^  of  the  most  specious  arguments  in 
proof  of  the  imperfection  and  injustice  of  the  present  constitu- 
tion of  our  legislature  will  be  found,  on  closer  examination,  to 
pre-suppose  the  truih  of  certain  principles,  from  which  the  ad- 
ducers  of  these  arguments  loudly  profess  their  dissent.  But  in 
political  changes  no  permanence  can  be  hoped  for  in  the  ed- 
ifice, without  consistency  in  the  foundation. 

The  third  motive  is,  that  by  detecting  the  true  source  of  the 
influence  of  these  principles,  we  shall  at  the  same  time  discover 
their  natural  place  and  object:  and  that  in  themselves  they  are 
not  only  Truths,  but  most  important  and  sublime  Truths  ;  and 
that  their  falsehood  and  their  danger  consist  altogether  in  their 
misapplication.  Thus  the  dignity  of  Human  Nature  will  be 
secured,  and  at  the  same  time  a  lesson  of  humility  taught  to 
each  individual,  when  we  are  made  to  see  that  the  universal, 
necessary  Laws,  and  pure  ideas  of  Reason,  were  given  us,  not 
for  the  purpose  of  flattering  our  Pride  and  enabling  us  to  be- 
come national  legislators  ;  but  that  by  an  energy  of  continued 
self-conquest,  we  might  establish  a  free  and  yet  absolute  gov- 
ernment in  our  own  spirits. 


ESSAY  IV. 


Albeit  therefore,  much  of  that  we  are  to  speak  in  this  present  cause,  may 
seem  to  a  number  perhaps  tedious,  j)erhaps  obscure,  dark  and  intricate,  (for 
many  talk  of  the  Truth,  which  never  sounded  the  depth  from  whence  it 
springeth  :  and  therefore,  when  they  are  led  thereunto,  they  are  soon  weary, 
as  men  drawn  from  those  beaten  paths,  wherewith  they  have  been  iniu'ed ;) 
yet  tins  may  not  so  far  prevail,  as  to  cut  off  that  which  the  matter  itself  re- 
quireth,  howsoever  the  nice,  humour  of  some  be  therewith  pleased  or  no. 
They  unto  whom  we  shall  seem  tedious,  ai-e  in  no  wise  injured  by  us,  be- 
cause it  is  in  their  own  hands  to  spare  that  labor  which  they  are  not  willing 
to  endure.  And  if  any  com})lain  of  obscurity,  they  must  consider,  that  in 
these  matters  it  cometh  no  otherwise  toj)ass,  than  in  sundry  the  works  both 
of  Art,  and  also  of  Nntin-e,  where  that  which  hath  greatest  tbrce  in  the  very 
things  we  see,  is,  notwithstanding,  itself  oftentimes  not  seen.  The  stateliness 
of  houses,  the  goodliness  of  trees,  when  we  behold  them,  delighteth  the  eye  : 
but  the  foundation  which  beareth  up  the  one,  that  root  which  ministereth  unto 
the  other  nourishment  and  hfe,  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth  concealed ,  and 
if  there  be  occasion  at  any  time  to  search  into  it,  such  labor  is  then  more  ne- 
cessary than  pleasant,]both  to  them  which  undertake  it  and  for  the  lookers-on. 
In  like  manner,  the  use  and  beiiefit  of  good  laws,  all  that  live  under  them, 
may  enjoy  with  delight  and  conifort,  albeit  the  grounds  and  first  original 
causes  from  whence  they  have  sprung,  be  unknown,  as  to  the  greatest  part 
of  men  they  are.  But  when  they  who  withdraw  their  obedience,  pretend 
that  ihe  laws  which  they  should  obey  are  corrupt  and  vicious:  for  better  ex- 
amination of  their  quality,  it  behoveth  the  very  foundation  and  root,  the  high- 
est well-spring  and  fountain  of  them  to  be  discovered.  Which  because  we 
are  not  oftentimes  accustomed  to  do,  when  we  do  it,  the  pains  we  take  are 
more  needful  a  great  deal  than  acceptable,  and  the  matters  which  we  handle, 
seem  by  reason  of  newness,  (till  the  mind  grow  better  acquainted  with  them) 
dark,  intricate,  and  unfamiliar.  For  as  much  help  whereof,  as  may  be  in  this 
case,  I  have  endeavored  throughout  the  body  of  this  whole  Discourse,  that 
every  former  part  might  give  strength  to  all  that  Ibllow,  and  every  latter  bring 
some  light  to  all  before:  so  that  if  the  judgments  of  men  do  but  hold  tliem- 
•selves  in  suspense,  as  touching  these  first  more  general  Meditations,  till  in  or- 
der they  have  })erused  the  rest  that  ensue,  what  may  seem  dark  at  the  first, 
will  afterwards  be  found  more  plain,  even  as  the  latter  particular  decisions 
will  appear,  I  doubt  not,  more  strong  when  the  other  have  been  read  before. 

Hooker's  Eccksiast.  Polity. 


169 

ON  THE  GROUNDS  OF  GOVERNMENT  AS  LAID  EXCLUSIVELY  IN 
THE  PURE  REASON  ;  OR  A  STATEMENT  AND  CRITIQUE  OF  THE 
THIRD  SYSTEM  OF  POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY,  VIZ.  THE  THEO- 
RY OF  ROUSSEAU  AND  THE  FRENCH  ECONOMISTS. 

r  return  to  my  promise  of  developing  from  its  embryo  prin- 
ciples the  Tree  of  French  Liberty,  of  which  the  declaration  of 
the  Rights  of  Man,  and  the  Constitution  of  1791  were  the  leaves, 
and  the  succeeding  and  present  state  of  France  the  fruits. 
Let  me  not  be  blamed,  if,  in  the  interposed  Essays,  introduc- 
tory to  this  Section,  I  have  connected  this  system,  though  on- 
ly in  the  imagination,  though  only  as  a  possible  case,  with  a 
name  so  deservedly  reverenced  as  that  of  Luther.  It  is  some 
excuse,  that  to  interweave  with  the  Reader's  recollections  a 
certain  life  and  dramatic  interest,  during  the  perusal  of  the  ab- 
stract reasonings  that  are  to  follow,  is  the  only  means  I  pos- 
sess of  bribing  his  attention.  We  have  most  of  us,  at  some 
period  or  other  of  our  lives,  been  amused  with  dialogues  of  the 
dead.  Who  is  there,  that  wishing  to  form  a  probable  opinion 
on  the  grounds  of  hope  and  fear  for  an  injured  people  warring 
against  mighty  armies,  would  not  be  pleased  with  a  spirited 
fiction,  which  brought  before  him  an  old  Numantian  discours- 
ing on  that  subject  in  Elysium,  with  a  newly-arrived  spirit 
from  the  streets  of  Saragossa  or  the  Walls  of  Gerona  ? 

But  I  have  a  better  reason.  I  wished  to  give  every  fair  ad- 
vantage to  the  opinions,  which  I  deemed  it  of  importance  to 
confute.  It  is  bad  policy  to  represent  a  political  system  as  ha- 
ving no  charms  but  for  robbers  and  assassins,  and  no  natural 
origin  but  in  the  brains  of  fools  or  mad-men,  when  experience 
has  proved,  that  the  great  danger  of  the  system  consists  in  the 
peculiar  fascination  it  is  calculated  to  exert  on  noble  and  ima- 
ginative spirits  ;  on  all  those,  who  in  the  amiable  intoxication  of 
youthful  benevolence,  are  apt  to  mistake  their  own  best  virtues 
and  choicest  powers  for  the  average  qualities  and  attributes  of 
the  human  character.  The  very  minds,  which  a  good  man 
would  most  wish  to  preserve  or  disentangle  from  the  snare, 
are  by  these  angry  misrepresentations  rather  lured  into  it.  Is 
it  wonderful,  that  a  man  should  reject  the  arguments  unheard, 
when  his  own  heart  proves  the  falsehood  of  the  assumptions 
by  which  they  are  prefaced  ?  or  that  he  should  retaliate  on  the 
aggressors  their  own  evil  thoughts  ?     I  am  well  aware,  that  the 


160 

provocation  was  great,  the  temptation  almost  inevitable  ;  yet 
still  I  cannot  repel  the  conviction  from   my  mind,  that  in  part 
to  this  error  and  in  part  to  a  certain  inconsistency  in  his  funda- 
mental principles,  we  are  to  attribute  the  small  number  of  con- 
verts  made  by  Burke  during  his  life   time.     Let  me   not  be 
misunderstood.     I  do  not  mean,  that   this  great  man  supported 
different  principles  at  different  seras  of  his  political  life.    On  the 
contrary,  no  man  was  ever  more  like  himself !  From  his  first  pub- 
lished speech  on  the  American  colonies  to  his  last  posthumous 
Tracts,  we  see  the   same  man,  the  same  doctrines,  the    same 
uniform  wisdom  of  2yractical  councils,  the   same  reasoning  and 
the  same  prejudices  against  all  abstract  grounds,  against  all  de- 
duction of  Practice  from  Theory.     The  inconsistency  to  which 
I  allude,  is  of  a  different  kind  :  it  is  the  want  of  congruity  in 
the  principles  appealed  to  in  different  parts  of  the  same  Work, 
it  is  an  apparent  versatility  of  the  principle  with   the  occasion. 
If  his  opponents  are  Theorists,  then  every  thing  is  to  be  found- 
ed on  Prudence,  on  mere  calculations   of  Expedieacy  :     and 
every  man  is  represented  as  acting  according  to  the  state  of  his 
own  immediate  self-interest.     Are  his  opponents  calculators  ? 
TAen.  calculation  itself  is  represented  as  a  sort  of  crime.     God 
has  given  us  Feelings,  and  we    are    to   obey  them  !  and   the 
most   absurd   prejudices    become    venerable,    to    which    these 
Feelings  have  given  consecration.     1  have  not  forgotten,  that 
Burke  himself  defended  these  half  contradictions,  on   the  pre- 
text of  balancing  the  too  much  on  the  one  side  by  a  too  much 
on   the  other.     But  never  can  I   believe,  but   that   the  straight 
line  must  needs  be  the  nearest ;  and  that  where  there  is  the 
most,  and  the  most  unalloyed  truth,  there  will  be  the   greatest 
and  most  permanent  power  of  persuasion.     But  the  fact  was, 
that  Burke  in  his  pu])lic  character  found  himself,  as  it  were,  in 
a  Noah's  Ark,  with  a  very  few  men    and  a  great   many  beasts  ! 
He  felt  how  much  his  immediate  power  was  lessened  by  the 
very  circumstance  of  his  measureless  superiority  to  those  about 
him  :  he  acted,  therefore,  under  a   perpetual  system  of  com- 
promise— a  compromise   of  greatness  with   meanness  ;  a  com- 
promise of  comprehension  with   narrowness;  a  compromise  of 
the  philosopher  (who  armed  with  the  twofold  knowledge  of 
History  and  the  Laws  of  Spirit,  as  with  a  telescope,  looked  far 
around  and  into  the  far  distance)    with   the  mere  men  of  busi- 
ness, or  with  yet  coarser  intellects,  who  handled  a  truth,  which 


161 

they  were  required  to  receive,  as  they  would  handle  an  ox, 
which  they  were  desired  to  purchase.  But  why  need  I  repeat 
what  has  been  already  said  in  so  happy  a  manner  by  Goldsmith, 
of  this  great  man  : 

"Who,  bom  for  the  universe  narroAv'd  his  mind, 
And  to  party  gave  up  what  was  meant  for  mankind. 
Tiio'  fraught  with  all  learning,  yet  straining  his  throat, 
To  persuade  Tommy  Townsend  to  give  him  a  vote ; 
Who  too  deep  for  his  hearers,  still  went  on  refining, 
And  tliought  of  convincing,  while  they  thought  of  dining." 

And  if  in  consequence  it  was  his  fate  to  "  cut  blocks  with  a 
razor,^^  I  may  be  permitted  to  add,  that  in  respect  of  Truth 
though  not  of  Genius,  the  weapon  was  injured  by  the  misappli- 
cation. 

The  Friend,  however,  acts  and  will  continue  to  act  under 
the  belief,  that  the  whole  truth  is  the  best  antidote  to  falsehoods 
which  are  dangerous  chiefly  because  they  are  half-truths  :  and 
that  an  erroneous  system  is  best  confuted,  not  by  an  abuse  of 
Theory  in  general,  nor  by  an  absurd  opposition  of  Theory  to 
Practice,  but  by  a  detection  of  the  errors  in  the  particular  The- 
ory. For  the  meanest  of  men  has  his  Theory  :  and  to  think  at 
all  is  to  theorize.  With  these  convictions  I  proceed  immedi- 
ately to  the  system  of  the  economists  and  to  the  principles  on 
which  it  is  constructed,  and  from  which  it  must  derive  all  its 
strength. 

The  system  commences  with  an  undeniable  truth,  and  an  im- 
portant deduction  therefrom  equally  undeniable.  All  voluntary 
actions,  say  they,  having  for  their  objects,  good  or  evil,  are 
moral  actions.  But  all  morality  is  grounded  in  the  reason. 
Every  man  is  born  with  the  faculty  of  Reason  :  and  whatever 
is  without  it,  be  the  shape  what  it  may,  is  not  a  man  or  person, 
but  a  THING.  Hence  the  sacred  principle,  recognized  by  all 
Laws,  human  and  divine,  the  principle  indeed,  which  is  the 
ground-work  of  all  law  and  justice,  that  a  person  can  never 
become  a  thing,  nor  be  treated  as  such  without  wrong.  But 
the  distinction  between  person  and  thing  consists  herein,  that 
the  latter  may  rightfully  be  used,  altogether  and  merely,  as  a 
means  ;  but  the  former  must  always  be  included  in  the  end,  and 
form  a  part  of  the  final  cause.  We  plant  the  tree  and  we  cut 
it  down,  we  breed  the  sheep  and  we  kill  it,  wholly  as  means  to 
our  own  ends.  The  wood-cutter  and  tbe  hind  are  likewise  em- 
21 


162 

ployed  as  means,  but  on  an  agreement  of  reciprocal  advantage, 
which  includes  them  as  well  as  their  employer  in  the  end. 
Again :  as  the  faculty  of  Reason  implies  free-agency,  morality 
(i.  e.  the  dictate  of  Reason)  gives  to  every  rational  being  the 
right  of  acting  as  a  free  agent,  and  of  finally  determining  his 
conduct  by  his  own  will,  according  to  his  own  conscience  :  and 
this  right  is  inalienable  except  by  guilt,  which  is  an  act  of  self- 
forfeiture,  and  the  consequences  therefore  to  be  considered  as 
the  criminal's  own  moral  election.  In  respect  of  their  Reason* 
all  men  are  equal.  The  measure  of  the  Understanding  and  of 
all  other  faculties  of  man,  is  different  in  different  persons  :  but 
Reason  is  not  susceptible  of  degree.  For  since  it  merely  de- 
cides whether  any  given  thought  or  action  is  or  is  not  in  con- 
tradiction with  the  rest,  there  can  be  no  reason  better,  or  more 
reason,  than  another. 

Reason  !  best  and  holiest  gift  of  Heaven  and  bond  of  union 
with  the  Giver  !  The  high  title  by  which  the  majesty  of  man 
claims  precedence  above  all  other  living  creatures  !  Myste- 
rious faculty,  the  mother  of  conscience,  of  language,  of  tears, 
and  of  smiles  !  Calm  and  incorruptible  legislator  of  the  soul, 
without  whom  all  its  other  powers  would  "  meet  in  mere 
oppugnancy."  Sole  principle  of  permanence  amid  endless 
change  !  in  a  world  of  discordant  appetites  and  imagined  self- 
interests   the    one   only   common  measure  !   which  taken  away, 

"Force  sliould  be  riglit ;  or,  ratlier  right  and  wrong 
(Between  whose  endless  jar  justice  resides) 
Should  lose  their  names  and  so  should  justice  too. 
Then  every  thing  includes  itself  in  power, 
Power  into  will,  will  into  appetite  ; 
And  appetite,  an  universal  wolf. 
So  doubly  seconded  with  will  and  j)owei-, 
Must  make  perforce  an  universal  prey !" 

Thrice  blessed  faculty  of  Reason  !  all  other  gifts,  though  goodly 
and  of  celestial  origin,  health,  strength,  talents,  all  the  powers 
and  all  the  means  of  enjoyment,  seem  dispensed  by  chance  or 
sullen  caprice — thou  alone,  more  than  even  the  sunshine,  more 
than  the  common  air,  art  given  to  all  men,  and  to  every  man 
alike  !     To  thee,  who  being  one  art  the  same  in  all,  we  owe 

*Thi3  position  has  been  already  explained,  and  the  sophistiy  grounded  on 
it  detected  and  exposed,  in  the  last  Essay  of  the  lianding-Place,  in  this  vol- 
iime. 


163 

the  privilege,  that  of  all  we  can  become  one,  a  living  whole! 
that  we  have  a  Country  !  Who  then  shall  dare  prescribe  a 
law  of  moral  action  for  any  rational  Being,  which  does  not  flow 
immediately  from  that  Reason,  which  is  the  fountain  of  all  mor- 
ality ?  Or  how  without  breach  of  conscience  can  we  limit  or 
coerce  the  powers  of  a  free  agent,  except  by  coincidence  with 
that  law  in  his  own  mind,  which  is  at  once  the  cause,  the  con- 
dition, and  the  measure,  of  his  free  agency  ?  Man  must  be 
free  ;  or  to  what  purpose  was  he  made  a  Spirit  of  Reason,  and 
not  a  Machine  of  Instinct?  Man  must  obey ;  or  wherefore  has 
he  a  conscience  ?  The  powers,  which  create  this  difficulty, 
contain  its  solution  likewise  :  for  their  service  is  perfect  free- 
dom. And  whatever  law  or  system  of  law  compels  any  other 
service,  disennobles  our  nature,  leagues  itself  with  the  animal 
against  the  godlike,  kills  in  us  the  very  principle  of  joyous 
well-doing,  and  fights  against  humanity. 

By  the  application  of  these  principles  to  the  social  state  there 
arises  the  following  system,  which  as  far  as  respects  its  first 
grounds  is  developed  the  most  fully  by  J.  J.  Rousseau  in  his 
work  Du  Contr at  Social.  If  then  no  individual  possesses  the 
right  of  prescribing  any  thing  to  another  individual,  the  rule  of 
which  is  not  contained  in  their  common  Reason,  Society, 
which  is  but  an  aggregate  of  individuals,  can  communicate  this 
right  to  no  one.  It  cannot  possibly  make  that  rightful  which 
the  higher  and  inviolable  law  of  human  nature  declares  con- 
tradictoiy  and  unjust.  But  concerning  Right  and  Wrong,  the 
Reason  of  each  and  every  man  is  the  competent  judge  :  for  how 
else  could  he  be  an  amenable  Being,  or  the  proper  subject  of 
any  law  ?  This  Reason,  therefore,  in  any  one  man,  cannot 
even  in  the  social  state  be  rightfully  subjugated  to  the  Reason 
of  any  other.  Neither  an  individual,  nor  yet  the  whole  multi- 
tude which  constitutes  the  state,  can  possess  the  right  of  com- 
pelling him  to  do  any  thing,  of  which  it  cannot  be  demonstrated 
that  his  own  Reason  must  join  in  prescribing  it.  If  therefore 
society  is  to  be  under  a  rightful  constitution  of  government, 
and  one  that  can  impose  on  rational  Beings  a  true  and  moral 
obligation  to  obey  it,  it  must  be  framed  on  such  principles  that 
every  individual  follows  his  own  Reason  while  he  obeys  the 
laws  of  the  constitution,  and  performs  the  will  of  the  state 
while  he  follows  the  dictates  of  his  own  Reason.  This  is  ex- 
pressly asserted  by  Rousseau,  who  states  the  problem  of  a  per- 


164 

feet  constitution  of  government  in  the  following  words :  Trou- 
ver  line  forme  (T  Association — par  laquelle  chacun  s^  tinissant 
dtous,  n'oheisse  pourtant  qiiP  a  lid  meine^  et  reste  aussl  libre  qu' 
auparavanty  i.  e.  To  find  a  form  of  society  according  to 
which  each  one  uniting  with  the  whole  shall  yet  obey  himself 
only  and  remain  as  free  as  before.  This  right  of  the  individu- 
al to  retain  his  w^ole  natural  independence,  even  in  the  social 
state,  is  absolutely  inalienable.  He  cannot  possibly  concede 
or  compromise  it :  for  this  very  Right  is  one  of  his  most  sacred 
Duties.  He  would  sin  against  himself,  and  commit  high  trea- 
son against  the  Reason  which  the  Almighty  Creator  has  given 
him,  if  he  dared  abandon  its  exclusive  right  to  govern  his  ac- 
tions. 

Laws  obligatory  on  the  conscience,  can  only  therefore  pro- 
ceed from  that  Reason  which  remains  always  one  and  the 
same,  whether  it  speaks  through  this  or  that  person  :  like  the 
voice  of  an  external  Ventriloquist,  it  is  indifferent  from  whose 
lips  it  appears  to  come,  if  only  it  be  audible.  The  individuals 
indeed  are  subject  to  errors  and  passions,  and  each  man  has 
his  own  defects.  But  when  men  are  assembled  in  person  or 
by  real  representatives,  the  actions  and  re-actions  of  individual 
Self-love  balance  each  other ;  errors  are  neutralized  by  oppo- 
site errors ;  and  the  winds  rushing  from  all  quarters  at  once 
with  equal  force,  produce  for  the  time  a  deep  calm,  during 
which  the  general  will  arising  from  the  general  Reason  dis- 
plays itself.  "It  is  fittest,"  says  Burke  himself,  (see  his  Note 
on  his  Motion  relative  to  the  Speech  from  the  Throne,  Vol.  II. 
Page  647,  4to.  Edit.)  "  It  is  fittest  that  sovereign  authority 
should  be  exercised  where  it  is  most  likely  to  be  attended 
with  the  most  effectual  correctives.  These  correctives  are 
furnished  by  the  nature  and  course  of  parliamentary  proceed- 
ings, and  by  the  infinitely  diversified  characters  who  compose 
the  two  Houses.  The  fulness,  the  freedom,  and  publicity  of 
discussion,  leave  it  easy  to  distinguish  what  are  acts  of  power, 
and  what  the  determinations  of  equity  and  reason.  There 
prejudice  corrects  prejudice,  and  the  different  asperities  of  par- 
ty zeal  mitigate  and  neutralize  each  other." 

This,  however,  as  my  readers  will  have  already  detected,  is 
no  longer  a  demonstrable  deduction  from  Reason.  It  is  a  mere 
probability,  against  which  other  probabilities  may  be  weighed  : 
as  the  lust  of  authority,  the   contagious   nature  of  enthusiasm, 


165 

and  other  of  the  acute  or  chronic  diseases  of  deliberative  as- 
semblies. But  which  of  these  results  is  the  more  probable, 
the  correction  or  the  contagion  of  evil,  must  depend  on  cir- 
cumstances and  grounds  of  expediency :  and  thus  we  already 
find  ourselves  beyond  the  magic  circle  of  the  pure  Reason,  and 
within  the  sphere  of  the  understanding  and  the  prudence.  Of 
this  important  fact  Rousseau  was  by  no  means  unaware  in  his 
theory,  though  with  gross  inconsistency  he  takes  no  notice  of 
it  in  his  application  of  the  theory  to  practice.  He  admits  the 
possibility,  he  is  compelled  by  History  to  allow  even  the  pro- 
bability, that  the  most  numerous  popular  assemblies,  nay  even 
whole  nations,  may  at  times  be  hurried  away  by  the  same  pass- 
ions, and  under  the  dominion  of  a  common  error.  This  will  of 
all  is  then  of  no  more  value,  than  the  humours  of  any  one  in- 
dividual :  and  must  therefore  be  sacredly  distinguished  from 
the  pure  will  which  flows  from  universal  Reason.  To  this 
point  then  I  entreat  the  Reader's  particular  attention  :  for  in 
this  distinction,  established  by  Rousseau  himself  between  the 
Volonte  de  Tous  and  the  Volonte  generale,  (i.  e.  between  the 
collective  will,  and  a  casual  overbalance  of  wills)  the  falsehood 
or  nothingness  of  the  whole  system  becomes  manifest.  For 
hence  it  follows,  as  an  inevitable  consequence,  that  all  which 
is  said  in  the  Contrat  Social  of  that  sovereign  will,  to  which 
the  right  of  universal  legislation  appertains,  applies  to  no  one 
Human  Being,  to  no  Society  or  assemblage  of  Human  Beings, 
and  least  of  all  to  the  mixed  multitude  that  makes  up  the  Peo- 
ple :  but  entirely  and  exclusively  to  Reason  itself,  which,  it 
is  true,  dwells  in  every  man  potentially,  but  actually  and  in 
perfect  purity  is  found  in  no  man  and  in  no  body  of  men.  This 
distinction  the  latter  disciples  of  Rousseau  chose  completely  to 
forget  and,  (afar  more  melancholy  case!)  the  constituent  le- 
gislators of  France  forgot  it  likewise.  With  a  wretched  par- 
rotry they  wrote  and  harrangued  without  ceasing  of  the  Volon- 
te generate — the  inalienable  sovereignty  of  the  people  :  and  by 
these  high-soumiing  phrases  led  on  the  vain,  ignorant,  and  in- 
toxicated populace  to  wild  excesses  and  wilder  expectations, 
which  entailing  on  them  the  bitterness  of  dissappointment 
cleared  the  way  for  military  despotism,  for  the  satanic  Govern- 
ment of  Horror  under  the  Jacobins,  and  of  Terror  under  the 
Corsican. 

Luther  lived   long  enough  to  see   the   consequences  of  the 


166 

doctrines  into  which  indignant  pity  and  abstract  ideas  of  right 
had  hurried  hiin — to  see,  to  retract  and  to  oppose  them.  If 
the  same  had  been  tlie  lot  of  Rousseau,  I  doubt  not  that  his 
conduct  would  have  been  the  same.  In  his  whole  system 
there  is  beyond  controversy  much  that  is  true  and  well  reason- 
ed, if  only  its  application  be  not  extended  farther  than  the  na- 
ture of  tlie  case  permits.  But  then  we  shall  find  that  little  or 
nothing  is  won  by  it  for  the  institutions  of  society  ;  and  least  of 
all  for  the  constitution  of  Governments,  the  Theory  of  which 
it  was  his  wish  to  ground  on  it.  Apply  his  principles  to  any 
case,  in  which  the  sacred  and  inviolable  Laws  of  Morality  are 
immediately  interested,  all  becomes  just  and  pertinent.  No 
power  on  earth  can  oblige  me  to  act  against  my  conscience. 
No  magistrate,  no  monarch,  no  legislature,  can  without  tyranny 
compel  me  to  do  any  thing  which  the  acknowledged  laws  of 
God  have  forbidden  me  to  do.  So  act  that  thou  mayest  be 
able,  without  involving  any  contradiction,  to  will  that  the  max- 
im of  thy  conduct  should  be  the  law  of  all  intelligent  Beings — 
is  the  one  universal  and  sufficient  principle  and  guide  of  mo- 
rality. And  why  ?  Because  the  object  of  morality  is  not  the 
outward  act,  but  the  internal  maxim  of  our  actions.  And  so 
far  it  is  infallible.  But  with  what  shew  of  Reason  can  we 
pretend,  from  a  principle  by  which  we  are  to  determine  the 
purity  of  our  motives,  to  deduce  the  form  and  matter  of  a 
rightful  Government,  the  main  office  of  which  is  to  regulate 
the  outward  actions  of  particular  bodies  of  men,  according  to 
their  particular  circumstances  ?  Can  we  hope  better  of  con- 
stitutions framed  by  ourselves,  than  of  that  which  was  given  by 
Almighty  Wisdom  itself?  The  laws  of  the  Hebrew  common- 
wealth, which  flowed  from  the  pure  Reason,  remain  and  are 
immutable;  but  the  regulations  dictated  by  Prudence,  though 
by  the  Divine  prudence,  and  though  given  in  thunder  from  the 
Mount,  have  passed  away  ;  and  while  they  lasted,  were  binding 
only  for  that  one  state,  the  particular  circumstances  of  which 
rendered  them  expedient. 

Rousseau  indeed  asserts,  that  thereis  an  inalienable  sove- 
reignty inherent  in  every  human  being  possessed  of  Reason  : 
and  from  this  the  framers  of  the  constitution  of  1791  deduce, 
that  the  people  itself  is  its  own  sole  rightful  legislator,  and  at 
most  dare  only  recede  so  far  from  its  right  as  to  delegate  to 
chosen  deputies  the  power  of  representing  and  declaring  the 


167 

general  will.  But  this  is  wholly  without  proof;  for  it  has  al- 
ready been  fully  shewn,  that  according  to  the  principle  out  of 
.which  this  consequence  is  attempted  to  be  drawn,  it  is  not  the 
actual  man,  but  the  abstract  Reason  alone,  that  is  the  sovereign 
and  rightful  Lawgiver.  The  confusion  of  two  things  so  differ- 
ent is  so  gross  an  error,  that  the  Constituent  Assembly  could 
scarce  proceed  a  step  in  their  declaration  of  rights,  without 
some  glaring  inconsistency.  Children  are  excluded  from  all 
political  power — are  they  not  human  beings  in  whom  the  faculty 
of  Reason  resides !  Yes !  but  in  them  the  faculty  is  not  yet 
adequately  developed.  But  are  not  gross  ignorance,  invete- 
rate superstition,  and  the  habitual  tyranny  of  passion  and  sen- 
suality, equal  preventives  of  the  developement,  equal  impedi- 
ments to  the  rightful  exercise  of  the  Reason,  as  childhood  and 
early  youth  ?  Who  would  not  rely  on  the  judgment  of  a  well-' 
educated  English  lad,  bred  in  a  virtuous  and  enlightened  fami- 
ly, in  preference  to  that  of  a  brutal  Russian,  who  believes  that 
he  can  scourge  his  wooden  idol  into  good  humor,  or  attributes 
to  himself  the  merit  of  perpetual  prayer,  when  he  has  fastened 
the  petitions,  which  his  priest  has  written  for  him,  on  the  wings 
of  a  windmill  ?  Again  :  women  are  likewise  excluded — a  full 
half,  and  that  assuredly  the  most  innocent,  the  most  amiable 
half,  of  the  whole  human  race,  is  excluded,  and  this  too  by  a 
constitution  which  boasts  to  have  no  other  foundations  but  those 
of  universal  Reason  !  Is  Reason  then  an  aff'air  of  sex  ?  No  ! 
But  women  are  commonly  in  a  state  of  dependance,  and  are  not 
likely  to  exercise  their  Reason  with  freedom.  Well!  and  does 
not  this  ground  of  exclusion  apply  with  equal  or  greater  force 
to  the  poor,  to  the  infirm,  to  men  in  embarrassed  circumstances, 
to  all  in  short  whose  maintenance,  be  it  scanty  or  be  it  ample,  de- 
pends on  the  will  of  others  ?  How  far  are  we  to  go  ?  Where  must 
we  stop  ?  What  classes  should  we  admit  ?  Whom  must  we  dis- 
franchise ?  The  objects,  concerning  whom  we  are  to  determine 
these  questions,  are  all  human  beings  and  diff"erenced  from  each 
other  by  degrees  only,  these  degrees  too  oftentimes  changing. 
Yet  the  principle  on  which  the  whole  system  rests  is,  that  Rea- 
son is  not  susceptible  of  degree.  Nothing  therefore,  which 
subsists  wholly  in  degrees,  the  changes  of  which  do  not  obey 
any  necessary  law,  can  be  subjects  of  pure  science,  or  deter- 
minable by  mere  Reason.  For  these  things  we  must  rely  on 
our   Understandings^  enlightened  by  past  experience  and  ira- 


168 

mediate  observation,  and  determining  our  choice  by  comparisons 
of  expediency. 

It  is  therefore  altogether  a  mistaken  notion,  that  the  theory 
which  would  deduce  the  social  Rights  of  Man  and  the  sole 
rightful  form  of  government  from  principles  of  Reason,  in- 
volves a  necessary  preference  of  the  democratic,  or  even 
the  representative,  constitutions.  Accordingly,  several  of  the 
French  economists,  although  devotees  of  Rousseau  and  the 
physiocratic  system,  and  assuredly  not  the  least  respectable  of 
their  party  either  in  morals  or  in  intellect ;  and  these  too,  men 
who  lived  and  wrote  under  the  unlimited  monarchy  of  France, 
and  who  were  therefore  well  acquainted  with  the  evils  connect- 
ed with  that  system  ;  did  yet  declare  themselves  for  a  pure 
monarchy  in  preference  to  the  aristocratic,  the  popular,  or  the 
mixed  form.  These  men  argued,  that  no  other  laws  being  al- 
lowable but  those  which  are  demonstrably  just,  and  founded  in 
the  simplest  ideas  of  Reason,  and  of  which  every  man's  reason 
is  the  competent  judge,  it  is  indifferent  whether  one  man,  or 
one  or  more  assemblies  of  men,  give  form  and  publicity  to  them. 
For  being  matters  of  pure  and  simple  science,  they  require  no 
experience  in  order  to  see  their  Truth,  and  among  an  enlight- 
ened people,  by  whom  this  system  had  been  once  solemnly 
adopted,  no  sovereign  would  dare  to  make  other  laws  than  those 
of  Reason.  They  further  contend,  that  if  the  people  were  not 
enlightened,  a  purely  popular  government  could  not  co-exist 
with  this  system  of  absolute  justice;  and  if  it  were  adequately 
enlightened,  the  influence  of  public  opinion  would  supply  the 
place  of  formal  representation,  while  the  form  of  the  govern- 
ment would  be  in  harmony  with  the  unity  and  simplicity  of  its 
principles.  This  they  entitle  le  Despotisme  legal  sous  V  Em- 
pire de  V  Evidence.  (The  best  statement  of  the  theory  thus 
modified,  may  be  found  in  Mercier  de  la  Riviere,  Vordre  naturel 
et  cssentiel  des  societcs politiques.)  From  the  proofs  adduced  in 
the  preceding  paragraph,  to  which  many  others  might  be  added, 
I  have  no  hesitation  in  afiirming  that  this  latter  party  are  the 
more  consistent  reasoners. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  the  influence  of  these  writings 
contributed  greatly,  not  indeed  to  raise  the  present  emperor, 
but  certainly  to  reconcile  a  numerous  class  of  politicians  to  his 
unlimited  authority  :  and  as  far  as  his  lawless  passion  for  war 
and    conquest    allows    him  to  govern    according  to   any   prin- 


169 

ciplee,  he  favors  those  of  the   phystocratlo  jihtlosophers.     His 
early  education  must  have  given  him  a  predilection  for  a  theory 
conducted   throughout   with   mathematical  precision ;  its  very 
simplicity  promised  the  readiest  and  most  commodious  machine 
for  despotism,  for  it  moulds  a  nation  into  as  calculable  a  power  as 
an  army  ;  while  the  stern  and  seeming  greatness  of  the  whole, 
and  its  mock-elevation  above  human  feelings,  flattered  his  pride, 
hardened  his  conscience,  and  aided  the  efforts  of  self-delusion. 
Reasow  is  the  sole  sovereign,  the   only  rightful  legislator:  but 
Reason  to  act  on  man  must  be  impersonated.     The  Providence 
which    had   so   marvellously   raised   and    supported    him,    had 
marked   him   out  for   the   representative  of  Reason,   and   had 
armed  him  with  irresistible   force,  in  order  to  realize  its  laws. 
In  Him  therefore  Migiit  becomes  Right,  and  his  cause  and 
that  of  destiny  (or  as  the  wretch  now  chooses  to  word   it,  ex- 
changing blind   nonsense  for  staring  blasphemy)  his  cause  and 
the  cause  of  God  are  one  and  the  same.     Excellent  postulate 
for  a  choleric  and   self-willed   tyrant !     What  avails  the   im- 
poverishment of  a  few  thousand  merchants  and  manufacturers  ? 
What  even  the  general  wretchedness  of  millions  of  perishable 
men,  for  a   short  generation  ?     Should  these  stand  in  the  way 
of  the  chosen  conqueror,  the  "  Innovator  Mundi^  et  Stupor  Soe- 
culorum,^^  or  prevent  a  constitution  of  things,  which  erected  on 
intellectual  and  perfect  foundations,  "  groweth  not  old,"  but  like 
the  eternal  justice,  of  which  it  is  the  living  image, 


"  may  despise 

"  The  strokes  of  Fate  and  see  tlie  World's  last  hour !" 

For  Justice,  austere  unrelenting  Justice,  is  every  where  held 
up  as  the  one  thing  needful :  and  the  only  duty  of  the  citizen, 
in  fulfilling  which  he  obeys  all  the  laws,  is  not  to  encroach  on 
another's  sphere  of  action.  The  greatest  possible  happiness  of 
a  people  is  not,  according  to  this  system,  the  object  of  a  gov- 
ernor ;  but  to  preserve  the  freedom  of  all,  by  coercing  within 
the  requisite  bounds  the  freedom  of  each.  Whatever  a  gov- 
ernment does  more  than  this,  comes  of  evil :  and  its  best  em- 
ployment is  the  repeal  of  laws  and  regulations,  not  the  estab- 
lishment of  them.  Each  man  is  the  best  judge  of  his  own  hap- 
piness, and  to  himself  must  it  therefore  be  entrusted.  Remove 
all  the  interferences  of  positive  statutes,  all  monopoly,  all  boun- 
ties, all  prohibitions,  and  all  encouragements  of  importation  and 

22 


170 

exportation,  of  particular  growth  and  particular  manufactures  : 
let  the  Revenues  of  the  State  be  taken  at  once  from  the  Produce 
of  the  Soil ;  and  all  things  will  find  their  level,  all  irregularities 
will  correct  each  other,  and  an  indestructible  cycle  of  harmoni- 
ous motions  take  place  in  the  moral  equally  as  in  the  natural 
world.  The  business  of  the  Governor  is  to  watch  incessantly, 
that  the  State  shall  remain  composed  of  individuals,  acting  as 
individuals,  by  which  alone  the  freedom  of  all  can  be  secured. 
Its  duty  is  to  take  care  that  itself  remain  the  sole  collective 
power,  and  that  all  the  citizens  should  enjoy  the  same  rights, 
and  without  distinction  be  subject  to  the  same  duties. 

Splendid  promises  !     Can  any  thing  appear  more   equitable 
than  the  last  proposition,  the  equality  of  rights  and  duties  ?   Can 
any  thing  be  conceived  more  simple  in  the  idea  ?  But  the  exe- 
cution— ?  let  the  four  or   five  quarto  volumes  of  the  Conscript 
Code  be  the  comment !     But  as    briefly  as    possible    I    shall 
prove,    that  this    system,   as  an  exclusive  total,    is  under  any 
form  impracticable  ;  and  that  if  it   were    realized,  and    as  far 
as    it   were    realized,  it    would    necessarily    lead   to    general 
barbarism    and  the  most    grinding  oppression  ;    and    that   the 
final  result  of  a  general  attempt  to  introduce  it,  must  be  a  mil- 
itary despotism  inconsistent  with  the  peace  and  safety  of  man- 
kind.    That  Reason  should  be  our  guide  and  governor  is   an 
undeniable  Truth,  and  all  our  notion  of  right  and  wrong  is  built 
thereon  :  for   the  whole   moral  nature  of  man  originated    and 
subsists  in  his  Reason.     From  Reason  alone  can  we  derive  the 
principles  which  our  Understandings  are  to   apply,  the  Ideal  to 
which  by  means  of  our  Uunderstandings  we    should  endeavor 
to  approximate.     This   however  gives   no   proof   that   Reason 
alone  ought  to  govern  and  direct  human  beings,  either  as  Indi- 
viduals or  as  States.     It  ought  not  to  do  this,  because  it  can- 
not.    The  Laws  of  Reason  are  unable  to  satisfy  the  first  condi- 
tions of  Human  Society.     We  will  admit  that  the  shortest  code 
of  law  is  the  best,  and   that  the  citizen  finds  himself  most  at 
ease  where  the  Government  least  intermeddles  with  his  affairs, 
and  confines  its  efforts  to  the  preservation  of  public  tranquillity 
— we  will  suff'er  this  to  pass  at  present  undisputed,   though  the 
examples  of  England,  and  before  the  late  events,  of  Holland 
and    Switzerland,    (surely  the    three   happiest   nations   of  the 
world)  to  which  perhaps  we  might  add   the    major  part  of  the 
former  German  free  towns,  furnish   stubborn  facts   in  presump- 
tion of  the  contrary — yet  still  the  proof  in  wanting  that  the  first 


171 

and  most  general  applications  and  exertions  of  the  power  ol 
man  can  be  definitely  regulated  by  Reason  unaided  by  the  posi- 
tive and  conventional  laws  in  the  formation  of  which  the  Un- 
derstanding must  be  our  guide,  and  which  become  just  because 
they  happen  to  be  expedient. 

The  chief  object  for  which  men  first  formed  themselves  into 
a  State  was  not  the  protection  of  their  lives  but  of  their  prop- 
erty. Where  the  nature  of  the  soil  and  climate  precludes  all 
property  but  personal,  and  permits  that  only  in  its  simplest 
forms,  as  in  Greenland,  men  remain  in  the  domestic  state  and 
form  Neighbourhoods,  but  not  Governments.  And  in  North 
America,  the  Chiefs  appear  to  exercise  government  in  those 
tribes  only  which  possess  individual  landed  property.  Among 
the  rest  the  Chief  is  their  General ;  but  government  is  exer- 
cised only  in  Families  by  the  Fathers  of  Families.  But  where 
individual  landed  property  exists,  there  must  be  inequality  of 
property :  the  nature  of  the  earth  and  the  nature  of  the  mind 
unite  to  make  the  contrary  impossible.  But  to  suppose  the 
Land  the  property  of  the  State,  and  the  labor  and  the  produce 
to  be  equally  divided  among  all  the  Members  of  the  State,  in- 
volves more  than  one  contradiction  :  for  it  could  not  subsist 
without  gross  injustice,  except  where  the  Reason  of  all  and 
of  each  was  absolute  master  of  the  selfish  passions  of  sloth, 
envy,  &c.:  and  yet  the  same  state  would  preclude  the  greater 
part  of  the  means  by  which  the  Reason  of  man  is  developed. 
In  whatever  state  of  society  you  would  place  it,  from  the  most 
savage  to  the  most  refined,  it  would  be  found  equally  unjust 
and  impossible  ;  and  were  there  a  race  of  men,  a  country,  and 
a  climate,  that  permitted  such  an  order  of  things,  the  same 
causes  would  render  all  Government  superfluous.  To  proper- 
ty, therefore,  and  to  its  inequalities,  all  human  laws  directly  or 
indirectly  relate,  which  would  not  be  equally  laws  in  the  state 
of  Nature.  Now  it  is  impossible  to  deduce  the  Right  of 
Property*  from  pure  Reason.  The  utmost  which  Reason  could 
give  would  be  a  property  in  the  forms  of  things,  as  far  as  the 
forms  were   produced  by  individual  power.     In  the  matter  it 


*I  mean,  practically  and  with  the  incqualitiea  inseparable  from  the  actual 
existence  of  Property.  Abstractedly,  the  Right  to  Property  is  deducible  from 
the  Free-agency  of  man.  If  to  act  freely  be  a  Right,  a  sphere  of  action  must 
be  so  too. 


1T2 

could  give  no  property.     We  regard  angels,  and  glorified  spir- 
its as  Beings  of  pure  Reason  :  and  whoev^er  thought  of  Proper- 
ty in  Heaven  ?     Even  the  simplest  and  most  moral  form  of  it, 
namely,  Marriage,    (we  know   from  the  highest  authority)  is 
excluded   from   the    state   of   pure   reason.     Rousseau   himself 
expressly  admits,  that  Property  cannot  be   deduced  from  the 
Laws  of  Reason  and  Nature ;    and  he  ought  therefore  to  have 
admitted  at  the  same  time,  that  his  whole  theory  was  a  thing  of 
air.     In  the   most  respectable  point   of  view  he   could  regard 
his  system  as   analogous  to  Geometry.     (If  indeed  it  be  pure- 
ly scientific,  how  could  it  be  otherwise?)    Geometry  holds  forth 
an  Ideal  w^hich  can  never  be  fully  realized  in  Nature,  even  be- 
cause it  is  Nature  :  because   bodies   are   more  than  extension, 
and  to  pure  extension,  of  space  only  the  mathematical  theorems 
wholly  correspond.     !n  the  same  manner  the  moral  laws  of  the 
intellectual  world,  as  far  as  they  are  deducible  from  pure  Intel- 
lect, are  never  perfectly  applicable  to  our  mixed  and  sensitive 
nature,  because  Man  is  something  besides  Reason  ;  because  his 
Reason  never  acts  by  itself,  but  must  clothe  itself  in  the  sub- 
stance of  individual  Understanding  and  specific  Inclination,  in 
order  to  become  a  reality  and  an  object  of  consciousness  and 
experience.     It  will  be  seen  hereafter  that  together  with  this, 
the  key-stons  of  the  arch,  the  greater  part  and  the  most  spe- 
cious of  the  popular  arguments  in  favour  of  universal  suffrage 
fall  in  and  are  crushed.     I  will  mention  one  only  at  present. 
Major  Cartwright,  in  his  deduction  of  the  Rights  of  the  Sub- 
ject from  Principles    "not  susceptible  of  proof,  being  self-evi- 
dent— if   one    of  which  be   violated  all  are  shaken,"  affirms 
(Principle   98th;    though  the   greater  part  indeed  are   moral 
aphorisms,  or  blank  assertions,  not  scientific  principles)   "that 
a  power  which  ought  never  to  be  used  ought  never  to  exist." 
Again  he  affirms  that  "  Laws  to  bind  all  must  be  assented  to 
by  all,  and  consequently  every  man,   even   the   poorest,  has  an 
equal  right  to  sufi'rage  :"    and  this  for  an  additional  reason,  be- 
cause  "  all  without  exception  are  capable  of  feeling  happiness 
or  misery,  accordingly  as  they  are  well  or  ill  governed."     But 
are  they  not  then  capable   of  feeling  happiness   or  misery  ac- 
cording as  they  do  or  do  not  possess  the  means  of  a  comforta- 
ble subsistence  ?  and  who  is  the  judge,  what  is  a  comfortable 
subsistence, but  the  man  himself?  Might  not  then,  on  the  same 
or  equivalent  principles  a   Leveller  construct  a  right  to  equal 


173 

pioperty?  The  inhabitants  of  this  country  witnout  property 
form,  doubtless,  a  great  majority :  each  of  these  has  a  right  to 
a  suffrage,  and  the  richest  man  to  no  more  :  and  the  object  of 
this  suffrage  is,  that  each  individual  may  secure  himself  a  true 
eliicient  Representative  of  his  Will.  Here  then  is  a  legal 
power  of  abolishing  or  equalizing  property  :  and  according  to 
himself,  a  power  which  ought  never  to  he  used  ought  not  to 
exist. 

Therefore,  unless  he  carries  his  system  to  the  whole  length 
of  common  labour  and  common  possession,  a  right  to  universal 
suffrage  cannot  exist ;  but  if  not  to  "universal  [suffrage,  there 
can  exist  no  natural  right  to  suffrage  at  all.  In  whatever  way 
he  would  obviate  this  objection,  he  must  admit  expedience 
founded  on  Experience  and  particular  circumstances,  which 
will  vary  in  every  different  nation,  and  in  the  same  nation  at 
different  times,  as  the  maxim  of  all  Legislation  and  the  ground 
of  all  Legislative  Power.  For  his  universal  principles,  as  far 
as  they  are  principles  and  universal,  necessarily  suppose  uni- 
form and  perfect  subjects,  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  Ideas 
of  pure  Geometry  and  (I  trust)  in  the  Realities  of  Heaven, 
but  never,  never,  in   creatures  of  flesh  and  blood. 


THE    FRIEMD. 


ESSAY    I.* 
ON   THE  ERRORS  OF  PARTY  SPIRIT:    OR  EXTREMES  MEET. 


*'  And  it  was  no  wonder  if  some  good  and  innocent  men,  especially  such  as 
He  (Lightfoot)  who  was  generally  more  concerned  about  what  was  done 
in  Judea  many  centuries  ago,  than  what  was  transacted  in  his  own  time  in 
his  own  country — it  is  no  wonder  if  some  such  were  for  a  while  borne 
away  to  the  approval  of  opinions  which  they  after  more  sedate  reflection 
disowned.  Yet  his  innoccncy  from  any  self-interest  or  design,  together 
with  his  learning,  secured  him  from  the  extravagancies  of  tlcmagogues,  the 
people's  oracles." — Lightfoot's  fForks,  Publisher's  Preface  to  the  Reader. 


I  have  never  seen  Major  Cartwright,  much  less  enjoy  the 
honour  of  his  acquaintance  ;  but  I  knovi'  enough  of  his  charac- 
ter from  the  testimony  of  others  and  from  his  own  writings, 
to  respect  his  talents,  and  revere  the  purity  of  his  motives.  I 
am  fully  persuaded,  that  there  are  few  better  men,  few  more 
fervent  or  disinterested  adherents  of  iheir  country  or  the  laws 
of  their  country,  of  whatsoever  things  are  lovely,  of  whatsoever 


*  With  this  Essay  commences  the  second  volume  of  the  English  edition  of 
The  Friend,  to  which  the  following  quotation  is  prefixed  as  a  motto : 

fnsolais,  inehcrculcforct,  omnia  iirhis  alicujiis  ccdificia  diruerc,  ad  hoc  solum  id, 
iisdcm  j)ostea  mdiori  ordine  el  forma  exlrudis,  ejus  platccc  pulchiores  evadercnt. 
At  certe  nan  insolent  est  dominum  unius  domus  ad  Ulam  destrueiulam  adhortari, 
ut  ejus  loco  meliorem  ccdificcl.  Immo  sape  muUi  hoc  facere  coguntur  nempe  cum 
ledes  hubmt  veluslale  jam  faliscentes,  vel  qua.  infirmis  fundamentis  supcrslnicke 
ruinam  m,inantur.  Cartesius  De  Methodo. 


175 

things  are  honorable  !  It  would  give  mo  great  pain  should  I  be 
supposed  to  have  introduced,  disrespectfully,  a  name,  which 
from  my  early  youth  I  never  heard  mentioned  without  a  feel- 
ing of  affectionate  admiration.  I  have  indeed  quoted  from  this 
venerable  patriot,  as  from  the  most  respectable  English  advo- 
cate for  the  Theory,  which  derives  the  rights  of  government, 
and  the  duties  of  obedience  to  it,  exclusively  from  principles 
of  pure  Reason.  It  was  of  consequence  to  my  cause  that  I 
should  not  be  thought  to  have  been  waging  war  against  a  straw 
image  of  my  own  setting  up,  or  even  against  a  foreign  idol  that 
had  neither  worshippers  nor  advocates  in  our  own  country  ;  and 
it  was  not  less  my  object  to  keep  my  discussion  aloof  from  those 
passions,  which  more  unpopular  names  might  have  excited.  I 
therefore  introduced  the  name  of  Cartwright,  as  I  had  previ- 
ously done  that  of  Luther,  in  order  to  give  every  fair  advan- 
tage to  a  theory,  which  I  thought  it  of  importance  to  confute  ; 
and  as  an  instance  that  though  the  system  might  be  made  tempt- 
ing to  the  Vulgar,  yet  that,  taken  unmixed  and  entire,  it  was 
chiefly  fascinating  for  lofty  and  imaginative  spirits,  who  mistook 
their  own  virtues  and  powers  for  the  average  character  of 
men  in  general. 

Neither  by  fair  statements  nor  by  fair  reasoning,  should  I 
ever  give  ofience  to  Major  Cartwright  himself,  nor  to  his  judi- 
cious friends.  If  I  am  in  danger  of  offending  them,  it  must 
arise  from  one  or  other  of  two  causes ;  either  that  I  have 
falsely  represented  his  principles,  or  his  motives  and  the  ten- 
dency of  his  writings.  In  the  book  from  which  I  quoted  ("The 
People's  Barrier  against  undue  Influence,  &c."  the  only  one  of 
Major  Cartwright's  which  1  possess)  I  am  conscious  that  there 
are  six  foundations  stated  of  constitutional  Government.  There- 
fore, it  may  be  urged,  the  Author  cannot  be  justly  classed  with 
those  who  deduce  our  social  Rights  and  correlative  Duties 
exclusively  from  principles  of  pure  Reason,  or  unavoidable 
conclusions  from  such.  My  answer  is  ready.  Of  these  six 
foundations  three  ire  but  different  words  for  one  and  the  same, 
viz.  the  Law  of  Reason,  the  Law  of  God,  and  first  Principles: 
and  the  three  that  remain  cannot  be  taken  as  different,  in- 
asmuch as  they  are  afterwards  affirmed  to  be  of  no  validity 
except  as  far  as  they  are  evidently  deduced  from  the  former ; 
that  is,  from  the  Principles  implanted  by  God  in  the  universal 
Reason  of  man.     These  three  latter  foundations  are,  the  gen- 


176 

eral  cnstoms  of  the  realm,  particular  customs,  and  acts  of  Par- 
liament.    It  might  be  supposed  that   the  Author  had  not  used 
his  terms  in  the  precise  and  single  sense  in  which  they  are  de- 
fined in  my  former  Essay  :  and  that  self-evident  Principles  may 
be  meant  to  include  the   dictates  of  manifest  Expedience,  the 
Inductions  of  the  Understanding  as  well  as  the  Prescripts  of 
the   pure   Reason.      But  no !    Major   Cartwright  has  guarded 
against  the  possibility  of  this  interpretation,  and  has  expressed 
himself  as  decisively,  and  with  as  much  warmth,  against  found- 
ing Governments  on   grounds  of  Expedience,  as  the  Editor  of 
The  Friend  has  done  against  founding  Morality  on  the  same. 
Euclid  himself  could  not  have  defined  his   words  more  sternly 
within  the  limit  of  pure    Science  :  For  instance,   see  the  1st. 
2d.  3d.  and  4th.  primary  Rules.     "  A  Principle  is  a  manifest 
and  simple  proposition  comprehending  a  certain   Truth.     Prin- 
ciples are  the  proof  of  every  thing  :  but  are  not  susceptible  of 
external  proof,  being  self-evident.     If  one   Principle  be  viola- 
ted, all  are   shaken.     Against  him,  who   denies  Principles,  all 
dispute  is  useless,  and  reason  unintelligible,   or  disallowed,  so 
far  as  he  denies  them.     The  Laws  of  Nature  are  immutable." 
Neither  could  Rousseau  himself  (or  his  predecessors,  the  fifth 
Monarchy  Men)  have  more  nakedly  or  emphatically  identified 
the  foundations  of  government  in  the    concrete  with  those  of 
religion  and  morality  in  the   abstract :  see  Major  Cartwright's 
Primary  Rules  from  31  to  39,  and  from  44  to  83.     In  these  it 
is  affirmed :  that  ihe  legislative   Rights   of  Every  Citizen  are 
inherent  in  his  nature ;  that  being  natural  Rights  they  must  be 
equal  in  all  men  ;  that  a  natural  right  is  that  right  which  a  Citi- 
zen claims  as  being  a  Man,  and  that  it  hath  no  other  foundation 
but  his  Personality  or  Reason  :  that  Property  can  neither  in- 
crease or  modify  any  legislative    Right ;  that  every  one  Man 
shall  have  one  Vote  however  poor,  and  for  any  one  Man,  how- 
ever rich,  to  have  any  more  than    one  Vote,   is  against  natural 
Justice,  and  an  evil  measure  ;  that  it  is  better  for   a  nation  to 
endure  all  adversities,  than  to  assent  to  one  evil  measure  ;  that 
to  be  free  is  to  be   governed  by  Laws,  to  which  we   have  our- 
selves assented,   either  in  Person  or  by  Representative,   for 
whose  election  we  have  actually  voted  :  that  all  not  having  a 
right  of  Suffrage  are   Slaves,   and  that  a   vast  majority  of  the 
People  of  Great  Britain  are  Slaves  !  To  prove  the  total  coinci- 
dence of  Major  Cartwright's  Theory  with   that  which  I  have 


177 

stated  (and  I  trust  confuted)  in  the  preceding  Number,  it  only 
remains  for  me  to  prove,  that  the  former,  equally  v/ilh  the  lat- 
ter, confounds  the  sufficiency  of  the  conscience  to  make  every 
person  a  moral  and  amenable  Being,  with  the  sufficiency  of 
judgment  and  experience  requisite  to  the  exercise  of  political 
Right.  A  single  quotation  will  place  this  out  of  all  doubt, 
which  from  its  length  I  shall  insert  in  a  Note.* 

Great  stress,  indeed,  is  laid  on  the  authority  of  our  ancient 
Laws,  both  in  this  and  the  other  works  of  our  patriotic  author  ; 
and  whatever  his  system  may  be,  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel, 
that  the  autlior  himself  possesses  the  heart  of  a  genuine  English- 
man.    But  still  his  system  can   neither  be  changed  nor  modi- 


*  "But  the  equality  (observe,  that  Major  Cartwright  is  here  speaking  of  the 
mUural  right  to  universal  Sutirage  and  consequently  of  the  universal  right  of 
digihility,  as  well  as  of  election,  independent  of  character  or  property) — the 
(■(luality  and  dignity  of  human  nature  in  all  men,  whether  rich  or  poor,  is 
placed  in  the  highest  point  of  view  by  St.  Paul,  when  he  reprehends  the  Co- 
rinthian believers  for  their  litigations  one  with  another,  in  the  Courts  of  Law 
where  unbelievers  presided ;  and  as  an  argument  of  the  competency  of  all  men 
to  judge  for  thetnsalves,  he  alludes  to  that  elevation  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
which  is  promised  to  every  man  v»'ho  shall  bo  virtuous,  in  the  language  of 
that  time,  a  Saiiit.  '  Do  ye  not  knovv^,'  says  he,  '  that  tlie  Saints  shall  judge  the 
world  .^  And  if  the  world  shall  be  judged  by  you,  are  yo  unworthy  to  judge 
the  smallest  matters  ?  Know  ye  not  that  ye  shall  judge  the  angels  ?  How 
much  more  things  that  pertain  to  this  life  T  If  after  such  authorities,  such 
manifestations  of  truth  as  these,  any  Christian  through  those  prejudices, 
which  are  the  effects  of  long  habits  of  injustice  and  oppression,  and  teach  us 
to  '  despise  the  poor,*  shall  still  think  it  light  to  exclude  tliat  part  of  the  com- 
monalty, consisting  of  '  Tradesmen,  Artificers,  and  Laborers,''  or  any  of  them, 
from  voting  in  elections  of  members  to  serve  in  parliament,  I  must  sincerely 
lament  such  a  persuasion  as  a  misfortune  both  to  hirnself  and  his  country. 
And  if  any  man,  (not  having  given  himself  the  trouble  to  consider  whether 
or  not  the  Scripture  be  an  authority,  but  who,  nevertheless,  is  a  friend  to 
the  rights  of  mankind)  upon  grounds  of  mere  prudence,  policy,  or  expedien- 
.•y,  shall  think  it  advisable  to  go  against  the  whole  current  of  our  constitu- 
tioiml  and  law  maxims,  by  which  it  is  self-evident  that  every  man,  as  being  a 
MAN,  is  created  free,  born  to  freedoii,  and,  without  it,  a  Thing,  a  Slave,  a 
Beast  ;  and  shall  contend  for  dra^'ving  a  line  of  exclusion  at  freeholders  of 
forty  pounds  a  year,  or  forty  shillings  a  year,  or  house-holders,  or  poi-boilcrs,  so 
that  al!  who  are  below  that  line  shall  not  have  a  vote  in  the  election  of  a  le- 
gislative guardian, — which  is  taking  from  a  citizen  the  power  even  of  self- 
preservation, — such  a  man,  I  venture  to  say,  is  bolder  than  he  who  wrestled 
with  the  angel;  tor  ho  wrestles  with  God  himself,  who  established  </w.9e  p-inct- 
ples  in  the  eterrud  laws  of  mdure,  never  to  he  violaleAl  by  any  of  his  Creatures." 
P.  23—24. 

23 


178 

fied  by  these   appeals :  for  among  the  primary  maxims,  which 
form  the  ground-work  of  it,  we  are  informed   not  only  that 
Law  in  the  abstract  is  the  perfection  of  Reason  :  but  that  the 
Law  of  God  and  the  Law  of  the   Land   are  all  one  !     What  ? 
The    Statutes    against    Witches?      Or   those   bloody    Statutes 
against  Papists,  the  abolition  of  which  gave  rise  to  the  infamous 
Riots  in  1780?     Or   (in   the  author's  own  opinion)    the  Stat- 
utes of  Disfranchisement  and   for  making  Parliaments  septen- 
nial ? — Nay!  but  (Principle  28)  "an  unjust  Law  is  no  Law:" 
and  (P.  22.)   against  the  Law  of  Reason  neither  prescription, 
statute,  nor  custom,  may  prevail ;  and   if  any  such  be  brought 
against  it,  they  be  not  prescriptions,   statute,  nor   customs,  but 
things  void  :  and  (P.  29.)     "  What  the  Parliament  doth  shall  be 
holdenfor  naughty  whensoever  it  shall  enact  that  which  is  con- 
trary to  a  natural  Right !"     We  dare  not  suspect  a  grave  wri- 
ter of  such  egregious  trifling,  as  to  mean  no  more  by  these  as- 
sertions,  than  that  what  is  wrong  is  not  right;   and   if  more 
than  this  be  meant,  it  must  be  that   the  subject  is  not  bound 
to  obey  any  Act  of  Parliament,  which  according  to  his  convic- 
tion entrenches  on  a  Principle  of  natural  Right ;  which  natural 
Rights  are,  as  we  have  seen,  not  confined  to  the  man   in   his 
individual  capacity,  but  are  made  to  confer  universal  legislative 
privileges  on  every  subject  of  every  state,  and  of  the  extent  of 
which  every  man  is  competent  to  judge,  who  is   competent  to 
be  the  object  of  Law  at  all,  i.  e.  every   man  who   has  not  lost 
his  Reason. 

In  the  statement  of  his  principles  therefore,  I  have  not  mis- 
represented Major  Cartwright.  Have  I  then  endeavored  to 
connect  public  odium  with  his  honored  name,  by  arraigning 
his  motives,  or  the  tendency  of  his  Writings  ?  The  tendency 
of  his  Writings,  in  my  inmost  conscience  I  believe  to  be  per- 
fectly harmless,  and  I  dare  cite  them  in  confirmation  of  the 
opinions  which  it  was  the  object  of  my  introductory  Essays  to 
establish,  and  as  an  additional  proof,  that  no  good  man  commu- 
nicating what  he  believes  to  be  the  Truth  for  the  sake  of  Truth 
and  according  to  the  rules  of  Conscience,  will  be  found  to 
have  acted  injuriously  to  the  peace  or  interests  of  Society. 
The  venerable  State-Moralist  (for  this  is  his  true  character, 
and  in  this  title  is  conveyed  the  whole  error  of  his  system )  is 
incapable  of  aiding  his  arguments  by  the  poignant  condiment 
of  personal  slander,  incapable  of  appealing  to  the  envy  of  the 


179 

multitude  by  bitter  declamation  against  the  follies  and  oppres- 
sions of  the  higher  classes !  He  would  shrink  with  horror 
from  the  thought  of  adding  a  false  and  unnatural  influence  to 
the  cause  of  Truth  and  Justice,  by  details  of  present  calamity 
or  immediate  suffering,  fitted  to  excite  the  fury  of  the  multi- 
tude, or  by  promises  of  turning  the  current  of  the  public  Reve- 
nue into  the  channels*  of  individual  Distress  and  Poverty,  so 
as  to  bribe  the  populace  by  selfish  hopes !  It  does  not  belong 
to  men  of  his  character  to  delude  the  uninstructed  into  the 
belief  that  their  shortest  way  of  obtaining  the  good  things  of 
this  life,  is  to  commence  busy  Politicians,  instead  of  remaining 
industrious  Laborers.  He  knows,  and  acts  on  the  knowledge, 
that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  enlightened  Philanthropist  to  plead 
for   the  poor  and  ignorant,  not  to  them. 

No  ! — From  Works  written  and  published  under  the  control 
of  austere  principles,  and  at  the  impulse  of  a  lofty  and  gener- 
ous enthusiasm,  from  Works  rendered  attractive  only  by  the 
fervor  of  sincerity,  and  imposing  only  by  the  Majesty  of  Plain 
Dealing^  no  danger  will  be  apprehended  by  a  wise  man,  no 
offence  received  by  a  good  man.  I  could  almost  venture  to 
warrant  our  Patriot's  publications  innoxious^  from  the  single 
circumstance  of  their  perfect  freedom  from  personal  themes  in 
this  AGE  OF  PERSONALITY,  this  ago  of  literary  and  political 
Gossiping^  when  the  meanest  insects  are  worshipped  with  a 
sort  of  Egyptian  superstition,  if  only  the  brainless  head  be 
atoned  for  by  the  sting  of  personal  malignity  in  the  tail;  when 
the  most  vapid  satires  have  become  the  objects  of  a  keen  pub- 
lic interest  purely  from  the  number  of  contemporary  characters 
named  in  the  patch-work  Notes  (which  possess,  however,  the 
comparative  merit  of  being  more  poetical  than  the  Text),  and 
because,  to  increase  the  stimulus,  the  Author  has  sagaciously 
left  his  own  name  for  whispers  and  conjectures  ! — In  an  age, 
when  even  Sermons  are  published  with  a  double  Appendix 
stuffed  with  names — in  a  generation   so  transformed   from   the 

*  I  must  again  remind  the  Reader,  tliat  these  Essays  were  written  October 
1809.  If  Major  Ciutwright  however,  since  then  acted  in  a  different  spirit, 
and  tampered  personally  with  the  distresses,  and  consequent  irritability  of 
the  ignorant,  the  inconsistency  is  his,  not  the  Author's.  If  what  I  then  be- 
lieved and  avowed  should  now  appear  a  severe  satire  in  the  shape  of  a  false 
prophecy,  any  shame  I  might  feel  for  my  lack  of  penetration  would  be  lost 
in  the  sincerity  of  my  regret. 


180 

characteristic  reserve  of  Britons,  that  from  the  ephemeral  sheet 
of  a  London  Newspaper  to  the  everlasting  Scotch  Professorial 
Quarto,  almost  every  publication  exhibits  or  flatters  the  epidemic 
distemper ;  that  the  very  "  Last  year's  Rebuses"  in  the  Lady's 
Diary,  are  answered  in  a  serious  Elegy  "  On  my  Father''s 
Death,^^  with  the  name  and  habitat  of  the  elegiac  CEdipus  sub- 
scribed ; — and  ^^  other  ingenious  solutions  were  likeioise  given'''' 
to  the  said  Rebuses — not,  as  heretofore,  by  Crito,  Philander, 
A  B,  X  Y,  &c.  but  by  fifty  or  sixty  plain  English  Sirnames  at 
full  length,  with  their  several  places  of  abode  !  In  an  age, 
when  a  bashful  Philalethes  or  Phileleutheros  is  as  rare  on  the 
title-pages  and  among  the  signatures  of  our  Magazines,  as  a 
real  name  used  to  be  in  the  days  of  our  shy  and  notice-shunning 
grandfathers!  When  (more  exquisite  than  all)  I  see  an  Epic 
Poem  ( Spirits  of  Maro  and  Mffionides,  make  ready  to  welcome 
your  new  compeer!)  advertised  with  the  special  recommenda- 
tion, that  the  said  Epic  Poem  contains  more  than  a  hundred 
names  of  living  persons  !  No — if  Works  as  abhorrent,  as  those 
of  Major  Cartwright,  from  all  unworthy  provocatives  to  the 
vanity,  the  envy,  and  the  selfish  passions  of  mankind,  could 
acquire  a  sufficient  influence  on  the  public  mind  to  be  mis- 
chievous, the  plans  proposed  in  his  pamphlets  would  cease  to 
be  altogether  visionary  :  though  even  then  they  could  not  ground 
their  claims  to  actual  adoption  on  self-evident  principles  of 
pure  Reason,  but  on  the  happy  accident  of  the  virtue  and  good 
sense  of  that  public,  for  whose  suffrages  they  were  presented. 
(Indeed  with  Major  Cartwright's  jsZans  I  have  no  present  con- 
cern ;  but  with  the  principles,  on  which  he  grounds  the  obliga- 
tions to  adopt  them.) 

But  I  must  not  sacrifice  Truth  to  my  reverence  for  individual 
purity  of  intention.  The  tendency  of  one  good  man's  writ- 
ings is  altogether  a  different  thing  from  the  tendency  of  the  sys- 
tem itself,  when  seasoned  and  served  up  for  the  unreasoning 
multitude,  as  it  has  been  by  men  whose  names  I  would  not 
honor  by  writin/,''  them  in  the  same  sentence  with  Major  Cart- 
wright's.  For  this  system  has  two  sides,  and  holds  out  very 
different  attractions  to  its  admirers  that  advance  towards  it  from 
different  points  of  the  compass.  It  posijcsses  qualities,  that  can 
scarcely  fail  of  winning  over  to  its  banners  a  numerous  host  of 
shallow  heads  and  restless  tempers,  men  who  without  learning 
(or,  as  one  of  my  Friends  has  forcibly  expressed   it,  '^Strong 


181 

Book-mindtdness*^ )  lire  a\3  alms-folks  on  the  opinions  of  their 
contemporaries,  and  who,  (well  pleased  to  exchange  the  humil- 
ity of  regret  for  the  self-complacent  feelings  of  contempt)  re- 
concile themselves  to  ihe  sans-culotterie  of  their  Ignorance,  by 
scofling  at  the  useless  fox-brush  of  Pedantry.*  The  attach- 
ment of  this  numerous  class  is  owing  neither  to  the  solidity  and 
depth  oi  foundation  in  this  theory,  or  to  the  strict  coherence 
of  its  arguments  ;  and  still  less  to  any  genuine  reverence  of 
humanity  in  the  abstract.  The  physiocratic  system  promises  to 
deduce  all  things,  and  every  thing  relative  to  law  and  govern- 
ment, with  mathematical  exactness  and  certainty,  from  a  few 
individual  and  self-evident  principles.  But  who  so  dull,  as  not 
to  be  capable  of  apprehending  a  simple  self-evident  principle, 
and  of  following  a  short  demonstration  ?  By  this  system,  the 
SYSTEM,  as  its  admirers  were  wont  to  call  it,  even  as  they  na- 
med the  writer  who  first  applied  it  in  systematic  detail  to  the 
whole  constitution  and  administration  of  civil  policy,  D.  Ques- 
noy  to  wit,  le  Docteur,  or  the  Teacher  ; — by  this  system  the 
observation  of  Times,  Places,  relative  Bearings,  History,  na- 
tional Customs  and  Character,  is  rendered  superfluous  :  all,  in 
short,  which  according  to  the  common  notion  makes  the  attain- 
ment of  legislative  prudence  a  work  of  difiiculty  and  long-con- 
tinued effort,  even  for  the  acutest  and  most  comprehensive 
minds.  The  cautious  balancing  of  comparative  advantages,  the 
painful  calculation  of  forces  and  counter-forces,  the  preparation 
of  circumstances,  the  lynx-eyed  watching  for  opportunities,  are 
all  superseded  ;  and  by  the  magic  oracles  of  certain  axioms  and 
definitions  it  is  revealed  how  the  world  with  all  its  concerns 
should  be  mechanised,  and  then  let  go  on  of  itself.  All  the 
positive  Institutions  and  Regulations,  which  the  prudence  of 
our  ancestors  had  provided,  are  declared  to  be  erroneous  or  in- 

*"Hc  (Charles  Brandon,  Duke  of  Suffolk)  knowing  that  learning  hath  no 
enemy  bat  Ignorance,  did  suspect  always  the  want  of  it  in  those  men  who 
derided  the  habit  of  it  in  others:  like  the  Fox  in  the  Fable,  who  being  without 
a  Tail,  would  persuade  others  to  cutoff  theirs  as  a  burthen.  But  he  liked  well 
the  Philosopher's  division  of  men  into  three  ranks — some  who  knew  good 
and  were  willing  to  teach  others ;  these  he  said  were  like  Gods  among  men — 
others  who  though  they  knew  not  much  yet  were  willing  to  learn  ;  these  he 
said  were  like  Men  among  Beasts — and  some  who  know  not  good  anil  yet  dc- 
.spised  such  uy  should  teach  them;  these  he  esteemed  as  Beasts  among  Men." 

LloytPs  State  Worthier,  p.  33. 


182 

terested  perversions  of  the  natural  relations  of  man ;  and  the 
whole  is  delivered  over  to  the  faculty,  which  all  men  possess 
equally,  i.  e.  the  common  sense  or  universal  Reason.  The  sci- 
ence of  Politics,  it  is  said,  is  but  the  application  of  the  common 
sense,  which  every  man  possesses,  to  a  subject  in  which  every 
man  is  concerned.  To  be  a  Musician,  an  Orator,  a  Painter,  a 
Poet,  an  Architect,  or  even  to  be  a  good  Mechanist,  presuppo- 
ses Genius  ;  to  be  an  excellent  Artizan  or  Mechanic,  requires 
more  than  an  average  degree  of  Talent ;  but  to  be  a  legislator 
requires  nothing  but  common  Sense.  The  commonest  human 
intellect  therefore  suffices  for  a  perfect  insight  in  the  whole  sci- 
ence of  civil  Polity,  and  qualifies  the  possessor  to  sit  in  judg- 
ment on  the  constitution  and  administration  of  his  own  country, 
and  of  all  other  nations.  This  must  needs  be  agreeable  tidings 
to  the  great  mass  of  mankind.  There  is  no  subject,  which  men 
in  general  like  better  to  harangue  on,  than  Politics :  none,  the  de- 
ciding on  which  more  flatters  the  sense  of  self-importance.  For 
as  to  what  Doctor  Johnson  calls  plebeian  envy,  I  do  not  believe 
that  the  mass  of  men  are  justly  chargeable  with  it  in  their  po- 
litical feelings  ;  not  only  because  envy  is  seldom  excited  except 
by  definite  and  individual  objects,  but  still  more  because  it  is  a 
painful  passion,  and  not  likely  to  co-exist  with  the  high  delight 
and  self-complacency  with  v/hich  the  harangues  on  States  and 
Statesmen,  Princes  and  Generals,  are  made  and  listened  to  in 
ale-house  circles  or  promiscuous  public  meetings.  A  certain 
portion  of  this  is  not  merely  desirable,  but  necessary  in  a  free 
country.  Heaven  forbid  !  that  the  most  ignorant  of  my  coun- 
trymen should  be  deprived  of  a  subject  so  well  fitted  to 


-"impart 


An  hour's  importance  to  the  poor  man's  lieart !" 

But  a  system  which  not  only  flatters  the  pride  and  vanity  of  men, 
but  which  in  so  plausible  and  intelligible  a  manner  persuades 
them,  not  that  this  is  wrong  and  that  that  ought  to  have  been 
managed  otherwise  ;  or  that  Mr.  X.  is  worth  a  hundred  of  Mr. 
Y.  as  a  Minister  or  Parliament  Man,  &c.  &e. ;  })ut  that  all  is 
wrong  and  mistaken,  nay,  all  most  unjust  and  wicked,  and  that 
every  man  is  competent^  and  in  contempt  of  all  rank  and  prop- 
erty, on  the  mere  title  of  his  Personality^  possesses  the  Right, 
and  is  under  the  most  solemn  moral  obligation,  to  give  a  help- 
ing hand   toward  overthrowing  it :    this   confusion   of  political 


183 

with  religious  claims,  this  transfer  of  the  rights  of  Religion  dis- 
joined from  the  austere  duties  of  self-denial,  with  which  reli- 
gious rights  exercised  in  their  proper  sphere  cannot  fail  to  be 
accompanied ;  and  not  only  disjoined  from  self-restraint,  but 
united  with  the  indulgence  of  those  passions  (self-will,  love  of 
power,  &c.)  which  it  is  the  principal  aim  and  hardest  task  of 
Religion  to  correct  and  restrain — this,  I  say,  is  altogether  dif- 
ferent from  the  Village  Politics  of  Yore,  and  may  be  pronoun- 
ced alarming  and  of  dangerous  tendency  by  the  boldest  Advo- 
cates of  Reform  not  less  consistently,  than  the  most  timid  es- 
chewers  of  popular  disturbance. 

Still,  however,  the  system  had  its  golden  side  for  the  noblest 
minds :  and  I  should  act  the  part  of  a  coward,  if  I  disguised 
my  convictions,  that  the  errors  of  the  Aristocratic  party  were 
full  as  gross,  and  far  less  excusable.  Instead  of  contenting 
themselves  with  opposing  the  real  blessings  of  English  law  to 
the  splendid  promises  of  untried  theory,  too  large  a  part  of  those, 
who  called  themselves  Anti-Jacohins^  did  all  in  their  power  to 
suspend  those  blessings  ;  and  thus  furnished  new  arguments  to 
the  advocates  of  innovation,  when  they  should  have  been  an- 
swering the  old  ones.  The  most  prudent,  as  well  as  the  most 
honest  mode  of  defending  the  existing  arrangements,  would 
have  been,  to  have  candidly  admitted  what  could  not  with 
truth  be  denied,  and  then  to  have  shewn  that,  though  the 
things  complained  of  were  evils,  they  were  necessary  evils ; 
or  if  they  were  removable^  jei  that  the  consequences  of  the 
heroic  medicines  recommended  by  the  Revolutionists  would  be 
far  more  dreadful  than  the  disease.  Now  either  the  one  or  the 
other  point,  by  tlie  double  aid  of  History  and  a  sound  Philoso- 
phy, they  might  have  established  with  a  certainty  little  short 
of  demonstration,  and  with  such  colours  and  illustrations  as 
would  have  taken  strong  hold  of  the  very  feelings  which  had 
attached  to  the  democratic  system  all  the  good  and  valuable 
men  of  the  party.  But  instead  of  this  they  precluded  the  possi- 
bility of  being  listened  to  even  by  the  gentlest  and  most  in- 
genuous among  the  friends  of  the  French  Revolution,  denying 
or  attempting  to  palliate  facts,  that  were  equally  notorious  and 
unjustifiable,  and  supplying  the  lack  of  brain  by  an  overflow  of 
gall.  While  they  lamented  with  tragic  outcries  the  injured  Mon- 
arch and  the  exiled  Noble,  they  displayed  the  most  disgusting 
insensibility  to  the  privations,  sufferings,  and  manifold  oppress- 


184 

ions  of  the  great  mass  of  the  Continental  population,  and  a 
blindness  or  callousness  still  more  offensive  to  the  crimes*  and 
unutterable  abominations  of  their  oppressors.  Not  only  was 
the  Bastile  justified,  but  the  Spanish  Inquisition  itself — and 
this  in  a  pamphlet  passionately  extolled  and  industriously  circu- 
lated by  the  adherents  of  the  then  ministry.  Thus,  and  by 
their  infatuated  panegyrics  on  the  former  state  of  France,  they 
played  into  the  hands  of  their  worst  and  most  dangerous  antag- 
onists. In  confounding  the  conditions  of  the  English  and  the 
French  peasantry,  and  in  quoting  the  authorities  of  Milton, 
Sidney,  and  their  immortal  compeers,  as  applicable  to  the  pres- 
ent times  and  the  existing  government,  the  Demagogues  ap- 
peared to  talk  only  the  same  language  as  the  Anti-jacobins  them- 
selves employed.  For  if  the  vilest  calumnies  of  obsolete  big- 
ots were  applied  against  these  great  men  by  the  one  party,  with 
equal  plausibility  might  their  authorities  be  adduced,  and  their 
arguments  for  increasing  the  power  of  the  people  be  reapplied 
to  the  existing  government,  by  tlie  other.  If  the  most  dis- 
gusting forms  of  despotism  were  spoken  of  by  the  one  in  the 
same  respectful  language  as  the  executive  power  of  our  own 
country,  what  wonder  if  the  irritated  partizans  of  the  other 
were  able  to  impose  on  the  populace  the  converse  of  the  prop- 
osition, and  to  confound  the  executive  branch  of  the  English 
sovreignty  with  the  despotisms  of  less  happy  lands  ?  The  first 
duty  of  a  wise  advocate  is  to  convince  his  opponents,  that  he 
understands  their  arguments  and  sympathizes  with  their  just 
feelings.  But  instead  of  this,  these  pretended  Constitutional- 
ists recurred  to  the  language  of  insult,  and  to  measures  of  per- 
secution. In  order  to  oppose  Jacobinism  they  imitated  it  in  its 
worst  features ;  in  personal  slander,  in  illegal  violence,  and 
even  in  the  thirst  for  blood.  They  justified  the  corruptions  of 
the  state  in  the  same  spirit  of  sophistry,  by  the  same  vague  ar- 
guments of  general  Reason,  and  the  same  disregard  of  ancient 
ordinances  and  established  opinions,  with  which  the  state  it- 
self had  been  attacked  by  the  Jacobins.  The  wages  of  state- 
dependence  were  represented  as  sacred  as  the  property  won 
by  industry  or  derived  from  a  long  line  of  ancestors. 


*  I  do  not.  inonii  the  Sovereigns.  biU  tlio  old  Nuliility  of  holh  (jJcrmaiiy  nnd 
l' ranee.  Tlie  e.xtriivag.uuly  false  and  flattoring  ]>ictiir(',  vvliieJi  IJurkc  {favc  of 
the  Freneli  Nobility  and  Hierarchy,  liaa  always  a]>i)ear<'d  to  me  the  grcatcHt 
('.erect  of  his,  in  po  many  resju-etri,  invalualile  Work. 


185 

It  was,  indeed,  evident  to  thinking  men,  that  both  parties 
were  playing  the  same  game  with  diflcrent  counters.  If  the 
Jacobins  ran  wild  with  the  Rights  of  Man,  and  the  abstract 
sovereignty  of  the  people,  their  antagonists  flew  off"  as  extrav- 
agantly from  the  sober  good  sense  of  our  forefathers,  and  idol- 
ized as  mere  an  abstraction  in  the  Rights  of  Sovereigns.  Nor 
was  this  confined  to  Sovereigns.  They  defended  the  exemp- 
tions and  privileges  of  all  privileged  orders  on  the  presumption 
of  their  inalienable  right  to  them,  however  inexpedient  they 
might  have  been  found,  as  universally  and  abstractly  as  if  these 
privileges  had  been  decreed  by  the  Supreme  Wisdom,  instead 
of  being  the  offspring  of  chance  or  violence,  or  the  inventions 
of  human  prudence.  Thus,  while  they  deemed  themselves  de- 
fending, they  were  in  reality  blackening  and  degrading  the  un- 
injurious  and  useful  privileges  of  our  English  nobility,  which 
(thank  Heaven  !)  rest  on  nobler  and  securer  grounds.  Thus 
too,  the  necessity  of  compensations  for  dethroned  princes  was 
afiirmed  as  familiarly,  as  if  kingdoms  had  been  private  estates : 
and  no  more  disapprobation  was  expressed  at  the  transfer  of 
live  or  ten  millions  of  men  from  one  proprietor  to  another,  than 
of  as  many  score  head  of  cattle.  This  most  degrading  and  su- 
perannuated superstition,  or  rather  this  ghost  of  a  defunct  ab- 
surdity raised  up  by  the  necromancy  of  a  violent  re-action 
(such  as  the  extreme  of  one  system  is  sure  to  occasion  in  the 
adherents  of  its  opposite )  was  more  than  once  allowed  to  reg- 
ulate our  measures  in  the  conduct  of  a  war  on  which  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  British  empire  and  the  progressive  civilization 
of  all  mankind  depended.  I  could  mention  possessions  of  par- 
amount and  indispensable  i,mportance  to  first-rate  national  in- 
terests, the  nominal  sovereign  of  which  had  delivered  up  all 
his  sea-ports  and  strong-holds  to  the  French,  and  maintained  a 
French  army  in  his  dominions,  and  had  therefore,  by  the  law  of 
nations,  made  his  territories  French  dependencies — which  poss- 
essions were  not  to  be  touched,  though  the  natural  inhabitants 
were  eager  to  place  themselves  under  our  permanent  protec- 
tion— and  why  ? — They  were  the  irroperty  of  the  king  of ! 

All  the  grandeur  and  majesty  of  the  law  of  nations,  which 
taught  our  ancestors  to  distinguish  between  a  European  sove- 
reign and  the  miserable  despots  of  oriental  barbarism,  and  to 
consider  the  former  as  the  representative  of  the  nation  which 
he  governed,  and  as  inextricably  connected  with  its  fortunes  as 
24 


186 

Sovereign,  were  merged  in  the  basest  personality.     Instead  of 

the  interest  of  mighty  nations,  it  seemed  as  if  a  mere  hiw-suit 

were  carrying  on  between  John  Doe  and  Richard  Roe  !     The 

happiness  of  millions  was  light  in  the  balance,  weighed  against 

a  theatric   compassion  for  one  individual  and  his  family,  who, 

(I  speak  from   facts   that  I  myself  know)   if  they  feared   the 

French  more,  hated  us  vvorse.     Though  the  restoration  of  good 

sense  commenced  during  the  interval  of  the  peace  of  Amiens, 

yet  it  was  not  till  the  Spanish  insurrection  that  Englishmen  of 

all  parties  recurred,  iti  toto,  to  the  old  English  principles,  and 

spoke  of  their  Hampdens,   Sidneys  and   Miltons,  with  the  old 

enthusiasm.     During   the   last   war,   an   acquaintance   of  mine 

(least  of  all  men   a  political   zealot)    had  christened  a  vessel 

which  he  had  just  built — The   Liberty  ;    and   was  seriously 

admonished  by  his  aristocratic   friends  to   change  it   for  some 

other    name.     What?    replied    the    owner    very    innocently — 

should  I  call  it  The  Freedom  ?    That    (it  was  replied)  would 

be  far  beter,  as  people  might   then   think  only  of  Freedom  of 

Trade ;  Whereas  Liberty  has  a  Jacobinical   sound   with  it ! 

Alas!    (and  this   is  an  observation  of  Sir  J.  Denham   and  of 

Burke)  is  there  then   no   medium  between  an  ague-fit  and  a 

frenzy-fever  ? 

I  have  said  that  to  withstand   the  arguments  of  the  lawless, 
the   Anti-jacobins   proposed  to  suspend  the    Law,  and  by  the 
interposition  of  a  particular  statute  to  eclipse  the  blessed  light 
of  the  universal  Sun,  that  spies  and  informers  might  tyrrannize 
and  escape  in  the  ominous  darkness.     Oh  !  if  these   mistaken 
men  intoxicated  with  alarm   and  bewildered   by  that  panic  of 
I  property,  which  they  themselves  were  the   chief  agents  in  ex- 
citing, had  ever  lived  in  a   country  where  there   was  indeed  a 
general  disposition  to  change    and  rebellion  !     Had  they  ever 
travelled  through  Sicily,  or  through  France    at  the  first  coming 
on  of  the  Revolution,  or  even  alas  !  through  too  many  of  the 
provinces  of  a  sister-island,   they  could  not  but  have  shrunk 
from  their  own  declarations  concerning  the  state  of  feeling  and 
opinion   at  that   time   predominant  throughout   Great   Britain. 
There  was  a  time  ( Heaven  grant  that  that  time  may  have  pass- 
ed by)  when  by  crossing  a  narrow  strait  they  might  have  learnt 
the  true   symptoms  of  approaching  danger  and  have   secured 
themselves  from  mistaking  the  meetings   and  idle  rant  of  such 
sedition  as  shrunk  appalled   from   the  sight  of  a  constable,  for 


187 

the  dire  murmuring  and  strange  consternation  which  precedes 
the  storm  or  earthquake  of  national  discord.     Not  only  in  Cof- 
fee-houses and  public  Theatres,  but  even  at  the  tables  of  the 
wealthy,  they  would  have  heard  the  advocates  of  existing  Gov- 
ernment defend  their  cause  in  the  language  and  with  the  tone 
of  men,  who  are  conscious  that  they  are  in  a  minority.     But  in 
England,  when  the  alarm  was  at  the  highest,   there   was  not  a 
city,  no,  not  a  town  in  which  a  man  suspected  of  holding  dem- 
ocratic principles  could   move  abroad  without  receiving  some 
unpleasant  proof  of  the  hatred  in  which  his  supposed  opinions 
were  held  by  the  great   majority  of  the   people  :  and  the  only 
instances  of  popular  excess  and   indignation  were  on  the  side 
of  the  Government  and  the  Established  Church.    But  why  need 
I  appeal  to  these  invidious  facts  ?  Turn  over  the  pages  of  His- 
tory, and  seek  for  a  single  instance  of  a  revolution  having  been 
effected  without  the   concurrence  of  either  the  Nobles,  or  the 
Ecclesiastics,  or  the  monied  classes,  in  any  country  in  which  the 
influences  of  property  had  ever  been  predominant,  and  where 
the  interests  of  the  proprietors  were  interlinked  !  Examine  the 
revolution  of  the  Belgic  provinces  under  Philip  the   Second  ; 
the  civil  wars  of  France  in  the   preceding  generation,  the  his- 
tory of  the  American  revolution,  or  the  yet  more  recent  events 
in  Sweden  and  in  Spain;  and  it  will  be  scarcely  possible  not  to 
perceive,  that  in  England,  from  1791  to  the  peace  of  Amiens, 
there  were  neither  tendencies  to  confederacy  nor  actual  confe- 
deracies, against  which  the  existing  Laws  had  not  provided  both 
sufficient  safeguards  and  an  ample  punishment.     But  alas  !  the 
panic  of  property  had  been  struck  in  the  first  instance  for  party 
purposes :  and  when  it  became   general,  its  propagators  caught 
it  themselves,  and  ended  in  believing  their  own  lie  :  even  as 
our  bulls  in  Burro wdale  sometimes  run   mad  with  the  echo  of 
their  own  bellowing.     The  consequences  were  most  injurious. 
Our  attention  was  concentrated   to  a  monster  which  could  not 
survive  the    convulsions   in   which   it  had  been   brought  forth, 
even  the  enlightened  Burke  himself  too  often  talking  and  rea- 
soning as  if  a  perpetual  and  organized  anarchy  had  been  a  pos 
sible  thing  !     Thus  while  we  were  warring  against  French  doc- 
trines, we  took  little  heed  whether  the  means  by  which  we  at- 
tempted to  overthrow  them,  were  not  likely  to  aid  and  augment 
the  far  more  formidable  evil  of  French  ambition.     Like  chil- 


188 

dren  we  ran  away  from  the  yelping  of  a  cur  and  took  shelter  at 
the  heels  of  a  vicious  war  horse. 

The  conduct  of  the  aristocratic  party  was  equally  unwise  in 
private  life  and  to  individuals,  especially  to  the  young  and  inex- 
perienced, who' were  surely  to  be  forgiven  for  having  had  their 
imagination  dazzled,  and  their  enthusiasm  kindled,  by  a  novelty 
so  specious,  that  even  an  old  and  tried  Statesman  had  pro- 
nounced it "  a  stupendous  monument  of  human  wisdom  and 
human  happiness."  This  was  indeed  a  gross  delusion,  but  as- 
suredly for  young  men  at  least,  a  very  venial  one.  To  hope  too 
boldly  of  Human  Nature  is  a  fault  which  all  good  men  have  an 
interest  in  forgiving.  Nor  was  it  less  removable  than  venial, 
if  the  party  had  taken  the  only  way  by  which  the  error  could 
be,  or  even  ought  to  have  been,  removed.  Having  first  sym- 
pathized with  the  warm  benevolence  and  the  enthusiasm  for 
Liberty,  which  had  consecrated  it,  they  should  have  then 
shewn  the  young  Enthusiasts  that  Liberty  was  not  the  only 
blessing  of  Society  ;  that  though  desirable,  even  for  its  own 
sake,  it  yet  derived  its  main  value  as  the  means  of  calling  forth 
and  securing  other  advantages  and  excellencies,  the  activities 
of  Industry,  the  security  of  Life  and  Property,  the  peaceful 
energies  of  Genius  and  manifold  Talent,  the  development  of 
the  moral  virtues,  and  the  independence  and  dignity  of  the 
nation  in  its  relations  to  foreign  powers  :  and  that  neither  these 
nor  Liberty  itself  could  subsist  in  a  country  so  various  in  its 
soils,  so  long  inhabited  and  so  fully  peopled  as  Great  Britain, 
without  difference  of  ranks  and  without  laws  which  recognized 
and  protected  the  privileges  of  each.  But  instead  of  thus 
winning  them  back  from  the  snare,  the}^  too  often  drove  them 
into  it  by  angry  contumelies,  which  being  in  contradiction  with 
each  other  could  only  excite  contempt  for  those  that  uttered 
them.  To  prove  the  folly  of  the  opinions,  they  were  repre- 
sented as  the  crude  fancies  of  unfledged  wit  and  school-boy 
statesmen;  but  when  abhorrence  was  to  be  expressed,  the  self- 
same unfledged  school-boys  were  invested  with  all  the  attri- 
butes of  brooding  conspiracy  and  hoary-headed  treason.  Nay, 
a  sentence  of  absolute  reprobation  was  passed  on  them  ;  and 
the  speculative  error  of  Jabobinism  was  equalized  to  the  mys- 
terious sin  in  Scripture,  which  in  some  inexplicable  manner 
excludes  not  only  mercy  but  even  repentance.  It  became  the 
watch-word  of  the   party,  "  once  a  Jacobin  always  a  Jacob- 


189 

IN."  And  wherefore  ?*  ( We  will  suppose  this  question  asked 
by  an  individual,  who  in  his  youth  or  earliest  manhood  had 
been  enamoured  of  a  system,  which  for  him  had  combined  the 
austere  beauty  of  science,  at  once  with  all  the  light  and  colours 
of  imagination,  and  with  all  the  warmth  of  wide  religious  chari- 
ty, and  who,  ov'erlooking  its  ideal  essence,  had  dreamt  of  ac- 
tually building  a  government  on  personal  and  natural  rights 
alone.)  And  wherefore  ?  "  Is  Jacobinism  an  absurdity,  and  have 
we  no  understanding  to  detect  it  with  ?  Is  it  productive  of  all 
misery  and  all  horrors,  and  have  we  no  natural  humanity  to 
make  us  turn  away  with  indignation  and  loathing  from  it  ?  Up- 
roar and  confusion,  insecurity  of  person  and  of  property,  the 
tyranny  of  mobs  or  the  domination  of  a  soldiery;  private 
houses  changed  to  brothels,  the  ceremony  of  marriage  but  an 
initiation  to  harlotry,  and  marriage  itself  degraded  to  mere  con- 
cubinage— these,  the  wiser  advocates  of  Aristocracy  have  said, 
and  truly  said,  are  the  effects  of  Jacobinism  !  In  private  life, 
an  insuti'erable  licentiousness,  and  abroad  an  intolerable  despot- 
ism ?  "  Once  a  Jacobin,  always  a  Jocobin^^ — 0  wherefore  ?  Is 
it  because  the  Creed  which  we  have  stated  is  dazzling  at  first 
sight  to  the  young,  the  innocent,  the  disinterested,  and  those, 
who  judging  of  men  in  general  from  their  own  uncorrupted 
hearts,  judge  erroneously,  and  expect  unwisely?  Is  it,  be- 
cause it  decieves  the  mind  in  its  purest  and  most  flexible  pe- 
riod .''  Is  it,  because  it  is  an  error,  that  every  day's  experience 
aids  to  detect  ?  An  error  against  which  all  history  is  full  of 
warning  examples  ?  Or  is  it  because  the  experiment  has  been 
tried  before  our  eyes  and  the  error  made  palpable  ? 

From  what  source  are  we  to  derive  this  strange  phsenomenon, 
that  the  young  and  the  enthusiastic,  who,  as  our  daily  exper- 
ience informs  us,  are  deceived  in  their  religious  antipathies,  and 


*  Tho  passage  wliicli  follows  was  first  published  iu  the  jMorning  Post,  in 
the  year  1800,  and  contained,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  fii-st  philosophical  appopria- 
tion  of  a  precise  import  to  the  word  Jacobin,  as  distinct  from  Republican, 
Democrat,  and  Demagogue.  The  whole  Essay  has  a  peculiar  interest  to  my- 
self at  the  present  moment,  (1  jMay  1817)  from  the  recent  notorious  publica- 
tion of  Mr.  Southey's  juvenile  Drama,  the  Wat  Tyler,  and  tho  consequent 
assault  on  his  character  by  an  M.  P.  in  his  senatorial  capacity,  to  whom  the 
Publishers  arc  doubtless  knit  by  tho  two-fold  tie  of  sympathy  and  gratitude. 
The  names  of  the  Publishers  are  Sherwood,  Nealy  and  Jones;  their  bene- 
factor's name  is  William  Smith. 


190 

grow  wiser ;  in  their  friendships,  and  grow  wiser ;  m  theii* 
modes  of  pleasure,  and  grow  wiser;  should,  if  once  deceived 
in  a  question  of  abstract  politics,  cling  to  the  error  for  ever 
and  ever?  And  this  too,  although  in  addition  to  the  natural 
growth  of  judgment  and  information  with  increase  of  years,  they 
live  in  the  age  in  which  the  tenets  have  been  acted  upon  ;  and 
though  the  consequences  have  been  such,  that  every  good  man's 
heart  sickens,  and  his  head  turns  giddy  at  the  retrospect. 


ESSAY     II. 


Truth  I  pursued,  as  Fancy  sketcli'd  the  way, 
And  wiser  rnen  than  I  went  worse  astray. 

MSS. 


I  was  never  myself,  at  any  period  of  my  life,  a  convert  to 
the  system.  From  my  earliest  manhood,  it  was  an  axiom 
in  Politics  with  me,  that  in  every  country  where  property 
prevailed,  property  must  be  the  grand  basis  of  the  government ; 
and  that  that  government  was  the  best,  in  which  the  power  or 
political  influence  of  the  individual  was  in  proportion  to  his 
property,  provided  that  the  free  circulation  of  property  was 
not  impeded  by  any  positive  laws  or  customs,  nor  the  tenden- 
cy of  wealth  to  accumulate  in  abiding  masses  unduly  encoura- 
ged. 1  perceived,  that  if  the  people  at  large  were  neither  ig- 
norant nor  immoral,  there  could  be  no  motive  for  a  sudden 
and  violent  change  of  government ;  and  if  they  were,  there 
could  be  no  hope  but  of  a  change  for  the  worse.  "  The  Tem- 
ple of  Despotism,  like  that  of  the  IMcxican  God,  would  be  re- 
built with  human  skulls,  and  more  firmly,  though  in  a  different 


191 

architecture."*  Thanks  to  the  excellent  education  which  I 
had  received,  my  reason  was  too  clear  not  to  draAv  this  "  circle 
of  power "  round  me,  and  my  spirit  too  honest  to  attempt  to 
break  through  it.  My  feelings,  however,  and  imagination  did 
not  remain  unkindled  in  this  general  conflagration  ;  and  I  con- 
fess I  should  be  more  inclined  to  be  ashamed  than  proud  of 
myself,  if  they  had  !  I  was  a  sharer  in  the  general  vortex,  though 
my  little  world  described  the  path  of  its  revolution  in  an  orbit 
of  its  own.  What  I  dared  not  expect  from  constitutions  of 
government  and  whole  nations,  I  hoped  from  Religion  and  a 
small  company  of  chosen  individuals,  and  formed  a  plan,  as 
harmless  as  it  was  extravagant,  of  trying  the  experiment  of  hu- 
man perfectibility  on  the  banks  of  the  Susquehannah ;  where 
our  little  society,  in  its  second  generation  was  to  have  com- 
bined the  innocence  of  the  patriarchal  age  with  the  knowledge 
and  genuine  refinements  of  European  culture  :  and  where  I 
dreamt  that  in  the  sober  evening  of  my  life,  I  should  behold 
the  Cottages  of  Independence  in  the  undivided  Dale  of  Industry, 

"  And  oft,  soothed  sadly  by  some  dirgefiil  wind, 
Muse  on  the  sore  ills  I  had  left  behind !" 

Strange  fancies !  and  as  vain  as  strange  !  yet  to  the  intense  in- 
terest and  impassioned  zeal,  which  called  forth  and  strained 
every  faculty  of  my  intellect  for  the  organization  and  defence 
of  this  scheme,  I  owe  much  of  whatever  I  at  present  possess, 
my  clearest  insight  into  the  nature  of  individual  man,  and  my 
most  comprehensive  views  of  his  social  relations,  of  the  true 
uses  of  trade  and  commerce,  and  how  far  the  wealth  and  re- 
lative power  of  nations  promote  or  impede  their  welfare  and 
inherent  strength.  Nor  were  tliey  less  serviceable  in  securing 
myself,  and  perhaps  some  others,  from  the  pitfalls  of  sedition : 
and  when  we  gradually  alighted  on  the  firm  ground  of  common 
sense,  from  the  gradually  exhausted  balloon  of  youthful  en- 
thusiasm, though  the  air-built  castles,  which  we  had  been  pur- 
suing, had  vanished  with  all  their  pageantry  of  shifting  forms 
and  glowing  colours,  we  were  yet  free  from  the  stains  and  im- 
purities which  might  have  remained  upon  us,  had  we  been  tra- 
velling with  the  crowd  of  less  imaginative  malcontents,  through 
the  dark  lanes  and  foul  bye  roads  of  ordinary  fanaticism. 


*  To  the  best  of  my  recollection,  these  were  Mr.  Southey's  words  in  the 
year  1794. 


192 

But  oh  !  there  were  thousands  as  young  and  as  innocent  as 
myself  who,  not  like  me,  sheltered  in  the  tranquil  nook  or  in- 
land cove  of  a  particular  fancy,  were  driven  along  with  the 
general  current !  Many  there  were,  young  men  of  loftiest 
miiids,  yea  the  prime  stuff  out  of  which  manly  wisdom  and 
practicable  greatness  is  to  be  formed,  who  had  appropriated 
their  hopes  and  the  ardour  of  their  souls  to  mankind  at  large, 
to  the  wide  expanse  of  national  interests,  which  then  seemed 
fermenting  in  the  French  Republic  as  the  main  outlet  and  chief 
crater  of  the  revolutionary  torrents ;  and  who  confidently  be- 
lieved, that  these  torrents,  like  the  lavas  of  Vesuvius,  were 
to  subside  into  a  soil  of  inexhaustible  fertility  on  the  circum- 
jacent lands,  the  old  divisions  and  mouldering  edifices  of  which 
they  had  covered  or  swept  away — Enthusiasts  of  kindliest  tem- 
perament, who  to  use  the  words  of  the  Poet  (having  already 
borrowed  the  meaning  and  the  metaphor)  had  approached 


-"the  shield 


Of  human  nature  from  the  golden  side, 

And  would  have  fought  even  to  the  death  to  attest 

The  quality  of  the  metal  which  they  saw." 

My  honored  friend  has  permitted  me  to  give  a  value  and  relief 
to  the  present  Essay,  by  a  quotation  from  one  of  his  unpublish- 
ed Poems,  the  length  of  which  I  regret  only  from  its  forbidding 
me  to  trespass  on  his  kindness  by  making  it  yet  longer.  I  trust 
there  are  many  of  my  Readers  of  the  same  age  with  myself 
who  will  throw  themselves  back  into  the  state  of  thought  and 
feeling  in  which  they  were  when  France  was  reported  to 
have  solemnized  her  first  sacrifice  of  error  and  prejudice  on  the 
bloodless  altar  of  Freedom,  by  an  oath  of  peace  and  good-will 
to  all  mankind. 

Oh  !  ])leasant  exercise  of  hope  and  joy ! 
For  niighty  were  tlie  auxiiiars,  which  then  stood 
Upon  our  side,  we  wlio  were  strong  in  love  ! 
Bliss  was  it  in  that  dawn  to  bo  alive, 
But  to  be  young  was  very  heaven !  oh  !  times, 
In  which  the  meagre  stale  forbidding  ways 
Of  custom,  law,  antl  statute,  took  at  once 
The  attraction  of  a  country  in  Romance ! 
When  Reason  secm'd  the  most  to  assert  her  rights, 
When  most  intent  on  niakuig  of  herself 
A  prime  Enchanter  to  assist  the  work, 


193 

Which  then  was  going  forward  in  her  name  ! 

Not  favor'd  spots  alone,  but  the  whole  earth 

The  beauty  wore  of  promise — that  which  sets 

(To  take  an  image  which  was  felt  no  doubt 

Among  the  bowers  of  Paradise  itself) 

The  budding  rose  above  the  rose  full  blown. 

What  temper  at  the  prospect  did  not  wake 

To  happiness  unthougt  of?     The  inert 

Were  roused,  and  lively  natures  rapt  away ! 

They  who  had  fed  their  childhood  u[Jon  dreams, 

The  play-fellows  of  fancy,  who  had  made 

All  powers  of  swiftness,  subtilty,  and  strength 

Then-  nnnisters,  used  to  stir  in  lordly  wise 

Among  the  grandest  objects  of  the  sense 

And  deal  with  whatsoever  they  found  there 

As  if  they  had  within  some  lurking  right 

To  yield  it ; — they  too,  who  of  gentle  mood 

Had  watch'd  all  gentle  motions,  and  to  these 

Had  titted  their  own  thoughts,  schemers  moi'e  mild 

And  m  the  region  of  their  peaceful  selves; — 

Now  was  it  that  both  found,  the  Meek  and  Lofty 

Did  both  find  helpers  to  their  heart's  desire 

And  stuff  at  hand,  plastic  as  they  could  wish  !— 

Were  call'd  upon  to  exercise  their  skill 

Not  in  Utopia,  sulrtcrraneoiis  fields. 

Or  some  secreted  island,  heaven  knows  where! 

But  in  the  very  world,  which  is  the  world 

Of  all  of  us,  the  place  where  in  the  end 

We  find  our  happiness,  or  not  at  all  1 

Wordsworth. 

The  Peace  of  Amiens  deserved  the  name  of  peace,  for  it 
gave  us  unanimity  at  home,  and  reconciled  Englishmen  with 
each  other.  Yet  it  would  be  as  wild  a  fancy  as  any  of  which 
we  have  treated,  to  expect  that  the  violence  of  party  spirit  is 
never  more  to  return.  Sooner  or  later  the  same  causes,  or  their 
equivalents,  will  call  forth  the  same  opposition  of  opinion,  and 
bring  the  same  passions  into  play.  Ample  would  be  my  recom- 
pense, could  I  foresee  that  this  present  Essay  would  be  the 
means  of  preventing  discord  and  unhappiness  in  a  single  fami- 
ly ;  if  its  words  of  warning,  aided  by  its  tones  of  sympathy, 
should  arm  a  single*  man  of  genius  against  the  fascinations  of 
his  own  ideal  world,  a  single  philanthropist  against  the  enthusi- 
asm of  his  own  heart  !  Not  less  would  be  my  satisfaction,  dared 
I  flatter  myself  that  my  lucubrations  would  not  be  altogether 
without  effect  on  those  who  deem  themselves  Men  of  Judgment, 

25 


194 

faithful  to  the  light  of  Practice  and  not  to  be  led  astray  by  the 
wandering  fires  of  Theory  !  If  I  should  aid  in  making  these 
aware,  that  in  recoiling  with  too  incautious  an  abhorrence  from 
the  bugbears  of  innovation,  they  may  sink  all  at  once  into  the 
slouo-h  of  slavishness  and  corruption.  Let  such  persons  recol- 
lect that  the  charms  of  hope  and  novelty  furnish  some  pallia- 
tion for  the  idolatry  to  which  they  seduce  the  mind  ;  but  that 
the  apotheosis  of  familiar  abuses  and  of  the  errors  of  selfishness 
is  the  vilest  of  superstitions.  Let  them  recollect  too,  that  no- 
thing can  be  more  incongruous  than  to  combine  the  pusillani- 
mity, which  despairs  of  human  improvement,  with  the  arro- 
gance, supercilious  contempt,  and  boisterous  anger,  which  have 
no  pretensions  to  pardon  except  as  the  overflowings  of  ardent 
anticipation  and  enthusiastic  faith  !  And  finally,  and  above  all, 
let  it  be  remembered  by  both  parties,  and  indeed  by  controver- 
sialists on  all  subjects,  that  every  speculative  error  which  boasts 
a  multitude  of  advocates,  has  its  golden  as  well  as  its  dark  side  ; 
that  there  is  always  some  Truth  connected  with  it,  the  exclu- 
sive attention  to  which  has  misled  the  Understanding,  some  mo- 
ral beauty  which  has  given  it  charms  for  the  heart.  Let  it  be 
remembered,  that  no  Assailant  of  an  Error  can  reasonably  hope 
to  be  listened  to  by  its  Advocates,  who  has  not  proved  to 
them  that  he  has  seen  the  disputed  subject  in  the  same  point 
of  view,  and  is  capable  of  contemplating  it  with  the  same  feel- 
ings as  themselves:  (for  why  should  we  abandon  a  cause  at  the 
persuasions  of  one  who  is  ignorant  of  the  reasons  which  have 
attached  us  to  it  ?)  Let  it  be  remembered,  that  to  write,  how- 
ever ably,  merely  to  convince  those  who  are  already  convin- 
ced displays  but  the  courage  of  a  boaster  ;  and  in  any  subject 
to  rail  against  the  evil  before  we  have  inquired  for  the  good, 
and  to  exasperate  the  passions  of  those  who  think  with  us,  by 
caricaturing  the  opinions  and  blackening  the  motives  of  our  an- 
tagonists, is  to  make  the  Understanding  the  pander  of  the  pas- 
sions ;  and  even  though  we  should  have  defended  the  right 
cause,  to  gain  for  ourselves  ultimately,  from  the  good  and  the 
wise  no  other  praise  than  the  supreme  Judge  awarded  to  the 
friends  of  Job  for  their  partial  and  uncharitable  defence  of  his 
justice:  "My  wrath  is  kindled  against  you,  for  ye  have  not 
spoken  of  me  rightfully.''^ 


ESSAY    III. 


ON  THE  VULGAR  ERRORS    RESPECTING  TAXES  AND 
TAXATION* 


'  Oneq  yuQ  'oi  Ttt' ;  ey/eleig  ^rjgcj'fiEvoi  nsnov&u;- 
'  Oiav  fihv  '}]  lifii't]  xuTugif,  Xa[j.Hu'  vovdiv  o'vdsv 
Eu'v  d'   ufoj  le  iciii  y.u'jwio^v  ^ogf^ogov  xv/.o)  cnv, 
^toovar  xat  av  luftSu'rstg,  if  r  rrj^v  no'liv  TaguTTr/g. 

Translation. — It  is  with  you  as  -vvith  those  that  are  hunting  for  eels.  Wliile 
the  pond  is  clear  and  settled,  t!iey  take  nothing ;  but  if  they  stir  up  the  mud 
high  and  low,  then,  they  bring  up  the  fish: — and  you  succeed  only  as  far  as 
you  can  set  the  State  in  tumult  and  confusion. 


In  a  passage  in  the  last  Essay,  I  referred  to  the  second  part 
of  the  "  Rights  of  Man,"  in  which  Paine  assures  his  Readers 
that  their  Poverty  is  the  consequence  of  Taxation  :  that  taxes 
are  rendered  necessary  only  by  wars  and  state  corruption  ;  that 
war  and  corruption  are  entirely  owing  to  monarchy  and  aristo- 
cracy ;  that  by  a  revolution  and  a  brotherly  alliance  with  the 
French  Republic,  our  land  and  sea  forces,  our  revenue  officers, 
and  three-fourths  of  our  pensioners,  placemen,  Sac.  &c.  would 
be  rendered  superfluous  ;  and  that  a  small  part  of  the  expences 
thus  saved,  would  suffice  for  the  maintenance  of  the  poor,  the 
infirm,  and  the  aged,  throughout  the  kingdom.  Would  to  hea- 
ven !  that  this  infamous  mode  of  misleading  and  flattering  the 
lower  classes  were  confined  to  the  writings  of  Thomas  Paine. 
But  how  often  do  we  hear,  even  from  the  mouths  of  our  par- 
liamentary advocates  for  popularity,  the  taxes  stated  as  so  much 
money  actually  lost  to  the  people  ;  and  a  nation  in  debt  repre- 


*  For  the  moral  effects  of  our  present  System  of  Finance,  and  its  conse- 
quences on  the  ivelfare  of  the  Nation,  as  distinguished  from  its  wealth,  the 
Reader  is  referred  to  the  Author's  Second  Lay  Sennon,  and  to  the  Section  of 
Morals  in  the  Third  Volume  of  this  Work. 


196 

sented  as  the  eame  both  in  kind  and  consequences,  as  an  indi- 
vidual tradesman  on  the  brink  of  bankruptcy  ?  It  is  scarcely 
possible,  that  these  men  should  be  themselves  deceived  ;  that 
they  should  be  so  ignorant  of  history  as  not  to  know  that  the 
freest  nations,  being  at  the  same  time  commercial,  have  been 
at  all  times  the  most  heavily  taxed :  or  so  void  of  common 
sense  as  not  to  see  that  there  is  no  analogy  in  the  case  of  a 
tradesman  and  his  creditors,  to  a  nation  indebted  to  itself. 
Surely,  a  much  fairer  instance  would  be  that  of  a  husband  and 
wife  playing  cards  at  the  same  table  against  each  other,  where 
what  the  one  loses  the  other  gains.  Taxes  may  be  indeed,  and 
often  are  injurious  to  a  country  :  at  no  time,  however,  from 
their  amount  merely,  but  from  the  time  or  injudicious  mode  in 
which  they  are  raised.  A  great  Statesman,  lately  deceased,  in 
one  of  his  antiministerial  harangues  against  some  proposed  im- 
post, said  :  the  nation  has  been  already  bled  in  every  vein,  and 
is  faint  with  loss  of  blood.  This  blood,  however,  was  circu- 
lating in  the  mean  time  through  the  whole  body  of  the  state, 
and  what  was  received  into  one  chamber  of  the  heart  was  in- 
stantly sent  out  again  at  the  other  portal.  Had  he  wanted  a 
metaphor  to  convey  the  possible  injuries  of  Taxation,  he  might 
have  found  one  less  opposite  to  the  fact,  in  the  known  disease 
of  aneurism,  or  relaxation  of  the  coats  of  particular  vessels, 
by  a  disproportionate  accumulation  of  blood  in  them,  which 
sometimes  occurs  when  the  circulation  has  been  suddenly  and 
violently  changed,  and  causes  helplessness,  or  even  mortal  stag- 
nation, though  the  total  quantity  of  blood  remains  the  same  in 
the  system  at  large. 

But  a  fuller  and  fairer  symbol  of  Taxation,  both  in  its  possi- 
ble good  and  evil  effects,  is  to  be  found  in  the  evaporation  of 
waters  from  the  surface  of  the  planet.  The  sun  may  draw  up 
the  moisture  from  the  river,  the  morass,  and  the  ocean,  to  be 
given  back  in  genial  showers  to  the  garden,  the  pasture;  and 
the  corn-field  ;  but  it  may  likewise  force  away  the  moisture 
from  the  fields  of  tillage,  to  drop  it  on  the  stagnant  j)Ool,  the 
saturated  swamp,  or  the  unprofitable  sand-waste.  The  gar- 
dens in  the  south  of  Europe  supply,  perhaps,  a  not  less  apt 
illustration  of  a  system  of  Finance  judiciously  conducted,  where 
the  tanks  or  reservoirs  would  represent  the  capital  of  a  nation, 
and  the  hundred  rills  hourly  varying  their  channels  and  direc- 
tions under  the  gardener's  spade,  give  a  pleasing  image  of  the 


197 

dispersion  of  that  capital  through  the  .whole  population,  by  the 
joint  effect  of  Taxation  and  Trade.  For  Taxation  itself  is  a 
part  of  Commerce,  and  the  Government  may  be  fairly  consid- 
ered as  a  great  manufacturing  house  carrying  on  in  different 
places,  by  means  of  its  partners  and  overseers,  the  trades  of 
the  ship-builder,  the  clother,  the  iron-founder,  &c.  &c. 

There  are  so  many  real  evils,  so  many  just  causes  of  com- 
plaint in  the  Constitution  and  Administration  of  Governments, 
our  own  not  excepted,  that  it  becomes  the  imperious  Duty  of 
every  Well-wisher  of  his  country,  to  prevent,  as  much  as  in 
him  lies,  the  feelings  and  efforts  of  his  compatriots  from  losing 
themselves  on  a  wrong  scent.  Whether  a  System  of  Taxation 
is  injurious  or  beneficial  on  the  whole,  is  to  be  known,  not  by 
the  amount  of  the  sum  taken  from  each  individual,  but  by  that 
which  remains  behind.  A  War  will  doubtless  cause  a  stagna- 
tion of  certain  branches  of  Trade,  and  severe  temporary  dis- 
tress in  the  places  where  those  branches  are  carried  on  ;  but 
are  not  the  same  effects  produced  in  time  of  Peace  by  prohi- 
bitory edicts  and  commercial  regulations  of  foreign  powers,  or 
by  new  rivals  with  superior  advantages  in  other  countries,  or 
in  different  parts  of  the  same  ?  Bristol  has,  doubtless,  been  inju- 
red by  the  rapid  piosperity  of  Liverpool  and  its  superior  spirit 
of  Enterprize  ;  and  the  vast  Machines  of  Lancashire  have  over- 
whelmed and  rendered  hopeless  the  domestic  industry  of  the 
females  in  the  Cottages  and  small  farm-houses  of  Westmoreland 
and  Cumberland.  But  if  Peace  has  its  stagnations  as  well  as 
War,  does  not  War  create  or  re-enliven  numerous  branches  of 
Industry  as  well  as  Peace  ?  Is  it  not  a  fact,  that  not  only  our 
own  military  and  naval  forces,  but  even  a  part  of  those  of  our 
enemy  are  armed  and  clothed  by  British  manufacturers  ?  It 
cannot  be  doubted,  that  the  whole  of  our  immense  military 
force  is  better  and  more  expensively  clothed,  and  both  these 
and  our  sailors  better  fed  than  the  same  persons  would  be  in 
their  individual  capacities  :  and  this  forms  one  of  the  real  ex- 
pences  of  War.  Not,  I  say,  that  so  much  more  money  is  rai- 
sed, but  that  so  much  more  of  the  means  of  comfortable  exist- 
ence are  consumed,  than  would  otherwise  have  been.  But 
does  not  this,  like  all  other  luxury,  act  as  a  stimulus  on  the  pro- 
ducing classes,  and  this  in  the  most  useful  manner,  and  on  the 
most  important  branches  of  production,  on  the  tiller,  on  the 
grazier,  the  clothier,  and  the  maker  of  arms .''  Had  it  been  oth- 


198 

erwise,  is  it  possible  that  the  receipts  from  the  Property  Tax 
should  have  increased  instead  of  decreased,  notwithstanding  all 
the  rage  of  our  enemy  ? 

Surely,  never  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  was  such  a 
tribute  of  admiration  paid  by  one  power  to  another,  as  Bona- 
parte within  the  last  years  has  paid  to  the  British  Empire  !  With 
all  the  natural  and  artificial  powers  of  almost  the  whole  of  con- 
tinental Europe,  with  all  the  fences  and  obstacles  of  all  public 
and  private  morality  broken  down  before  him,  with  a  mighty 
empire  of  fifty  millions  of  men,  nearly  two-thirds  of  whom  speak 
the  same  language,  and  are  as  it  were  fused  together  by  the  in- 
tensest  nationality  ;  with  this  mighty  and  swarming  empire,  or- 
ganized in  all  its  parts  for  war,  and  forming  one  huge  camp, 
and  himself  combining  in  his  own  person  the  two-fold  power 
of  Monarch  and  Commander  in  Chief,  with  all  these  advantages 
with  all  these  stupendous  instruments  and  inexhaustible  resour- 
ces of  offence,  this  mighty  Being  finds  himself  imprisoned  by 
the  enemy  whom  he  most  hates  and  would  fain  despise,  insult- 
ed by  every  wave  that  breaks  upon  his  shores,  and  condemned 
to  behold  his  vast  flotillas  as  worthless  and  idle  as  the  sea-weed 
that  rots  around  their  keels  !  After  years  of  haughty  menace 
and  expensive  preparations  for  the  invasion  of  an  island,  the 
trees  and  buildings  of  which  are  visible  from  the  roofs  of  his 
naval  store-houses,  he  is  at  length  compelled  to  make  open 
confession,  that  he  possesses  one  mean  only  of  ruining  Great 
Britain.  And  what  is  it  ?  The  ruin  of  his  own  enslaved  sub- 
jects! To  undermine  the  resources  of  one  enemy,  he  reduces 
the  Continent  of  Europe  to  the  wretched  state  in  which  it 
was  before  the  wide  diffusions  of  Trade  and  Commerce,  de- 
prives its  inhabitants  of  comforts  and  advantages  to  which  they 
and  their  fathers  had  been  for  more  than  a  century,  habituated, 
and  thus  destroys,  as  far  as  his  power  extends  a  principal 
source  of  civilization,  the  origin  of  a  middle  class  throughout 
Christendom,  and  with  it  the  true  balance  of  society,  the  parent 
of  international  law,  the  foster-nurse  of  general  humanity,  and 
(to  sum  up  all  in  one)  the  main  principle  of  attraction  and  re- 
pulsion, by  which  the  nations  were  rapidly  though  insensibly 
drawing  together  into  one  system,  and  by  which  alone  they 
could  combine  the  manifold  blessings  of  distinct  character  and 
and  national  independence,  with  the  needful  stimulation  and 
general  influences  of  intercommunity,  and  be  virtually  united 


199 

without  being  crushed  together  by  conquest,  in  order  to  waste 
away  under  the  tabes  and  slow  putrefaction  of  a  universal  mon- 
archy. This  boasted  Pacificator  of  the  World,  this  earthly  Pro- 
vidence *  as 'his  Catholic  Bishops  blasphemously  call  him,  pro- 
fesses to  entertain  no  hope  of  purchasing  the  destruction  of 
Great  Britain  at  a  less  price  than  that  of  the  barbarism  of  all 
Europe  !  By  the  ordinary  war  of  government  against  govern- 
ment, fleets  against  fleets,  and  armies  against  armies,  he  could 
eff"ect  nothing.  His  fleets  might  as  well  have  been  built  at  his 
own  expence  in  our  Dock-yards,  as  tribute-off'erings  to  the  Mas- 
ters of  the  Ocean  :  and  his  Army  of  England  lay  encamped  on 
his  Coasts  like  Wolves  baying  the  Moon  ! 

Delightful  to  humr.ne  and  contemplative  minds  was  the  idea 
of  countless  individual  efforts  working  together  by  common  in- 
stinct and  to  a  commqn  object,  under  the  protection  of  an  un- 
written code  of  religion,  philosoph}^,  and  common  interest, 
which  made  peace  and  brotherhood  co-exist  with  the  most  ac- 
tive hostility.  Not  in  the  untamed  Plains  of  Tartary,  but  in 
the  very  bosom  of  civilization,  and  himself  indebted  to  its  fos- 
tering care  for  his  own  education  and  for  all  the  means  of  his 
elevation  and  power,  did  this  genuine  offspring  of  the  old  ser- 
pent warm  himself  into  the  fiend-like  resolve  of  waging  war 
against  mankind  and  the  quiet  growth  of  the  world's  improve- 
ment, in  an  emphatic  sense  the  enemy  of  the  human  race  !  By 
these  means  only  he  deems  Great  Britain  assailable,  (a  strong 
presumption,  that  our  prosperity  is  built  on  the  common  inter- 
ests of  mankind  !) — this  he  acknowledges  to  be  his  only  hope — 
and  in  this  hope  he  has  been  utterly  baflled  ! 

To  what  then  do  we  owe  our  strength  and  our  immunity? 
The  sovereignty  of  law:  the  incorruptness  af  its  administra- 
tion ;  the  number  and  political  importance  of  our  religious 
sects,  which  in  an  incalculable  degree  have  added  to  the  dig- 
nity of  the  establishment  ;  the  purity,  or  at  least  the  decorum 


*It  lias  been  well  remarked,  that  there  is  something  far  more  shocking  in 
the  tyrant's  pretentions  to  the  gracious  attributes  of  the  Supreme  Ruler,  than 
in  his  most  remorseless  cruelties.  There  is  a  sort  of  wild  granduer,  not  un- 
gratifying  to  the  imagination,  in  the  answer  of  Timur  Khan  to  one  who  re- 
monstrated with  him  on  the  inhumanity  of  his  devastations:  cur  me  honiinem 
putas,  et  uon  jtolius  iram  Dei  in  tonis agentem  o!)  pernicicm  hunuuii  generis? 
Why  do  you  deem  me  a  man,  and  not  rather  the  incarnate  wrath  of  (Jod  act- 
ing on  the  earth  for  the  ruin  of  mankind  ? 


200 

of  private  morals,  and  the  independence,  activity,  and  weight, 
of  public  opinion  ?     These  and  similar  advantages  are  doubt- 
less the  materials  of  the  fortress,  but  what  has  been  the  ce- 
ment ?     What  has  bound  them  together  ?    What  has  rendered 
Great  Britain,  from  the    Orkneys  to  the  Rocks  of  Scilly,  in- 
deed and  with  more  than  metaphorical  propriety  a  body  poli- 
tic, our  Roads,  Rivers,  and  Canals  being  so  truly  the  veins,  ar- 
teries, and  nerves,  of  the  state  ;  that  every  pulse  in  the  metro- 
polis produces  a  correspondent  pulsation  in  the  remotest  village 
on  its  extreme  shores  !    What  made  the   stoppage   of  the   na- 
tional Bank  the  conversation  of  a  day  without  causing  one  ir- 
regular throb,  or  the   stagnation  of  the    commercial  current   in 
the  minutest  vessel  ?     I   answer  without  hesitation,  that  the 
cause  and  mother  principle  of  this  unexampled  confidence,  of 
this  system  of  credit,   which  is   as   much  stronger   than   mere 
positive  possessions,  as  the  soul  of  man  is  than  his  body,  or  as 
the  force  of  a  mighty  mass  in  free  motion,  than  the  pressure  of 
its  seperate  component  parts  would  be  in  a  state  of  rest — the 
main  cause  of  this,  I  say,  has  been  our  national  debt.     What 
its  injurious  effects  on  the  Literature,  the  Morals,  and  religious 
Principles,  have  been,  I  shall  hereafter  develope  with  the  same 
boldness.     But  as  to  our  political  strength  and  circumstantial 
prosperity,  it  is  the  national  debt  which  has  wedded  in  indisso- 
luble union  all   the   interests  of  the  state,  the  landed  with  the 
commercial,  and  the  man  of  independent  fortune  with  the  stir- 
ring   tradesman   and    reposing    annuitant.     It    is   the  National 
Debt,  which  by  the  rapid  nominal  rise  in  the  value  of  things, 
has  made   it  impossible  for  any  considerable   number   of  men 
to  retain    their    own   former   comforts    without  joining    in  the 
common  industry,  and  adding  to  the  stock  of  national  produce ; 
which  thus  first  necessitates  a  general  activity,  and  then  by  the 
immediate  and  ample  credit,  which  is  never  wanting  to  him, 
who    has   any  object  on  which  his  activity  can  employ  itself, 
gives  each  man   the   means   not   only  of  preserving  but  of  en- 
creasing  and  multiplying  all  his  former  enjoyments,  and  all  the 
symbols  of  the   rank    in  which   he   was  born.     It  is  this  which 
has  planted  the  naked  hills  and  enclosed  the  bleak  wastes,  in 
the  lowlands  of  Scotland  not  less   than   in  the  wealthier  dis- 
tricts of  South  Britain  :    it  is  this,  which  leaving  all  the   other 
causes  of  patriotism  and  national  fervor  undiminished  and  un- 
injured, has  added  to  our  public  duties  the  same  feeling  of  ne- 


201 

cessity,  the  6ame  sense  of  immediate  self-interest,  which  in 
other  countries  actuates  the  members  of  a  single  family  in  their 
conduct  toward  each  other. 

Somewhat  more  than  a  year  ago,  I  happened  to  be  on  a  visit 
with  a  friend,  in    a  small    market   town  in  the    South- West  of 
England,  when  one  of  the  company  turned  the  conversation  to 
the  weight  of  Taxes  and  the  consequent  hardness  of  the  times. 
1  answered,  that  if  the   Taxes  were  a  real  weight,  and  that  in 
proportion  to  their  amount,   we   must  have   been  ruined   long 
ago  :  for  Mr.  Hume,  who  had  proceeded,  as   on  a  self-evident 
axiom,  on  the  hypothesis,  that  a  debt  of  a  nation  was  the  same 
as  a  debt  of  an  individual,  had  declared  our  ruin  arithmetical- 
ly demonstrable,  if  the  national   debt  encreased  beyond  a  cer- 
tain   sum.      Since   his  time  it  has  more  than   quintupled    that 
sum,  and  yet — True,  answered   my   Friend,  but   the   principle 
might  be  right  though   he  might  have  been  mistaken   in   the 
time.     But  still,   I   rejoined,   if  the  principle  were  right,   the 
nearer  we  came  to  that  given   point,   and   the  greater  and   the 
more  active  the  pernicious  cause   became,   the  more   manifest 
would  its  effects  be.     We  might  not  be  absolutely  ruined,  but 
our  embarrassments  would  encrease  in  some  proportion  to  their 
cause.     Whereas  instead  of  being  poorer  and  poorer,  we  are 
richer  and  richer.     Will  any  man  in   his  senses   contend,   that 
the  actual  labor  and  produce  of  the    country  has  not  only  been 
decupled  within  half  a  century,  but   increased   so  prodigiously 
beyond  that  decuple   as  to  make  six  hundred   millions  a  less 
weight  to  us  than  fifty  millions  were  in  the  days  of  our  grandfa- 
thers ?     But  if  it  really  be  so,  to  what  can  we  attribute  this  stu- 
pendous progression  of  national   improvement,  but  to  that  sys- 
tem of  credit  and  paper  currency,  of  which  the   National  Debt 
is  both  the  reservoir  and  the  water-works  ?     A  constant  cause 
should  have  constant  effects ;  but  if  you  deem  that  this  is  some 
anomaly,  some  strange  exception  to  the    general   rule,   explain 
its  mode  of  operation,   make    it  comprehensible,   how   a   cause 
acting  on  a   whole  nation  can  produce   a  regular  and  rapid  en- 
crease  of  prosperity  to  a  certain  point,  and  then  all  at  once  pass 
from  an  Angel  of  Light  into  a  Daemon   of  Destruction  ?     That 
an  individual  house    may  live  more  and  more  luxuriously  upon 
borrowed  funds,  and  that  when  the  suspicions   of  the  creditors 
are    awakened,    and    their  patience    exhausted,   the   luxurious 
spendthrift  may  all  at  once  exchange  his  Palace  for  a  Prison — • 
26 


202 

this  I  can  understand  perfectly :  for  I  understand,  whence  the 
luxuries  could  be  produced  for  the  consumption  of  the  individu- 
al house,  and  who  the  creditors  might  be,  and  that  it  might  be 
both  their  inclination  and  their  interests  to  demand  the  debt, 
and  to  punish  the  insolvent  Debtor.  But  who  are  a  Nation's 
Creditors?  The  answer  is,  every  Man  to  every  Man.  Whose 
possible  interest  could  it  be  either  to  demand  the  Principal,  or 
to  refuse  his  share  toward  the  means  of  paying  the  Interest  ? 
Not  the  Merchant's :  for  he  would  but  provoke  a  crash  of 
Bankruptcy,  in  which  his  own  House  would  as  necessarily  be 
included,  as  a  single  card  in  a  house  of  cards  !  Not  the  land- 
holder's :  for  in  the  general  destruction  of  all  credit,  how  could 
he  obtain  payment  for  the  Produce  of  his  Estates  ?  Not  to 
mention  the  improbability  that  he  would  remain  the  undisturbed 
Possessor  in  so  direful  a  concussion — not  to  mention,  that  on 
him  must  fall  the  whole  Aveight  of  the  puplic  necessities — not  to 
mention  that  from  the  merchant's  credit  depends  the  ever-en- 
creasing  value  of  his  land  and  the  readiest  means  of  improving  it. 
Neither  could  it  be  the  laborer's  interest  :  for  he  must  be  either 
thrown  out  of  employ,  and  lie  like  the  fish  in  the  bed  of  a  River 
from  which  the  water  has  been  diverted,  or  have  the  value  of  his 
labor  reduced  to  nothing  by  the  inruption  of  eager  competitors. 
But  least  of  all  could  it  be  the  wish  of  the  lovers  of  liberty,  which 
must  needs  perish  or  be  suspended,  either  by  the  horrors  of 
anarchy,  or  by  the  absolute  Power,  with  which  the  Govern- 
ment must  be  invested,  in  order  to  prevent  them.  In  short, 
with  the  exception  of  men  desperate  from  guilt  or  debt,  or  mad 
with  the  blackest  ambition,  there  is  no  class  or  description  of 
men  who  can  have  the  least  Interest  in  producing  or  permit- 
ting a  Bankruptcy.  If  then,  neither  experience  has  acquainted 
us  with  any  national  impoverishment  or  embarrassment  from  the 
increase  of  National  Debt,  nor  theory  renders  such  eflbrts  com- 
prehensible, (for  the  predictions  of  Hume  went  on  the  false 
assumption,  that  a  part  only  of  the  Nation  was  interested  in  the 
preservation  of  the  Public  Credit )  on  what  authority  are  we  to 
ground  our  apprehensions  ?  Does  History  record  a  single  Na- 
tion, in  which  relatively  to  Taxation  there  were  no  privileged 
or  exempted  classes,  in  which  there  w^ere  no  compulsory  prices 
of  labor,  and  in  which  the  interest  of  all  the  different  classes 
and  all  the  different  districts,  were  mutually  dependent  and  vi- 
tally co-organized,  as  in  Great  Britain — has  History,  I  say,  re- 
corded a  single  instance  of  such  a  Nation  ruined  or   dissolved 


20S 

by  the  weight  of  Taxation  ?  In  France  there  was  no  publie 
credit,  no  communion  of  Interests :  its  unprincipled  Govern- 
ment and  the  productive  and  taxable  Classes  were  as  two  Indi- 
viduals with  separate  Interests.  Its  Bankruptcy  and  the  con- 
sequences of  it  are  sufficiently  comprehensible.  Yet  the  Cahi- 
erSj  or  the  instructions  and  complaints  sent  to  the  National  As- 
sembly, from  the  Towns  and  Provinces  of  France,  (an  immense 
mass  of  documents  indeed,  but  without  examination  and  patient 
perusal  of  which,  no  man  is  entitled  to  write  a  History  of  the 
French  Revolution)  these  proved,  beyond  contradiction,  that 
the  amount  of  the  Taxes  was  one  only,  and  that  a  subordinate 
cause  of  the  revolutionary  movement.  Indeed,  if  the  amount 
of  the  Taxes  could  be  disjoined  from  the  mode  of  raising  them, 
it  might  be  fairly  denied  to  have  been  a  cause  at  all.  Holland 
was  taxed  as  heavily  and  as  equally  as  ourselves ;  but  was  it 
by  Taxation  that  Holland  was  reduced  to  its  present  miseries? 
The  mode  in  which  Taxes  are  supposed  to  act  on  the  mar- 
ketableness  of  our  manufactures  in  foreign  marts,  I  shall  exa- 
mine on  some  future  occasion,  when  I  shall  endeavor  to  explain 
in  a  more  satisfactory  way  than  has  been  hitherto  done,  to  my 
apprehension  at  least,  the  real  mode  in  which  Taxes  act,  and 
how  and  why  and  to  what  extent  they  affect  the  wealth,  and 
what  is  of  more  consequence,  the  well-being  of  a  nation.  But 
in  the  present  exigency,  when  the  safety  of  the  nation  depends, 
on  the  one  hand,  on  the  sense  which  the  people  at  large  have 
of  the  comparative  excellencies  of  the  Laws  and  Government, 
and  on  the  firmness  and  wisdom  of  the  legislators  and  enlight- 
ened classes  in  detecting,  exposing,  and  removing  its  many 
particular  abuses  and  corruptions  on  the  other,  right  views  on 
this  subject  of  Taxation  are  of  such  especial  importance  ;  and 
I  have  besides  in  my  inmost  nature  such  a  loathing  of  factious 
falsehoods  and  moh-sycophancy^  i.  e,  the  flattering  of  the  mul- 
titude by  informing  against  their  betters  ;  that  I  cannot  but  re- 
vert to  that  point  of  the  subject   from  which   I  began,  namely, 

that  THE  WEIGHT    OF     TaXES     IS     TO     BE     CALCULATED     NOT     BY 

WHAT  IS  PAID,  BUT  BY  WHAT  IS  LEFT.  What  matters  it  to  a 
man,  that  he  pays  six  times  more  Taxes  than  his  father  did,  if, 
notwithstanding,  he  with  the  same  portion  of  exertion  enjoys 
twice  the  comforts  which  his  father  did  ?  Now  this  I  solemnly 
affirm  to  be  the  case  in  general,  throughout  England,  according 
to  all  the  facts  which  I  have  collected  during  an  examination  of 


204 

years,  wherever  I  have  travelled,  and  wherever  I  have  been  re- 
sident. (I  do  not  speak  of  Ireland,  or  the  lowlands  of  Scot- 
land :  and  if  I  may  trust  to  what  I  myself  saw  and  heard  there, 
I  must  even  exct'^j^  the  Highlands.)  In  the  conversation  which 
I  have  spoken  of  as  taking  place  in  the  south-west  of  England, 
by  the  assistance  of  one  or  other  of  the  company,  we  went 
through  every  family  in  the  town  and  neighborhood,  and  my 
assertion  was  found  completely  accurate,  though  the  place  had 
no  one  advantage  over  others,  and  many  disadvantages,  that 
heavy  one  in  particular,  the  non-residence  and  frequent  change 
of  its  Rectors,  the  living  being  always  given  to  one  of  the  Ca- 
nons of  Windsor,  and  resigned  on  the  acceptance  of  better  pre- 
ferment. It  was  even  asserted,  and  not  only  asserted  but  pro- 
ved, by  my  friend  (w'ho  has  from  his  earliest  youth  devoted  a 
strong,  original  understanding,  and  a  heart  warm  and  benevo- 
lent even  to  enthusiasm,  to  the  service  of  the  poor  and  the  la- 
boring class,)  that  every  sober  Laborer,  in  that  part  of  England 
at  least,  who  should  not  marry  till  thirty,  might,  without  any 
hardship  or  extreme  self-denial,  commence  house-keeping  at 
the  age  of  thirty,  with  from  a  hundred  to  a  hundred  and 
twenty  pounds  belonging  to  him.  I  have  no  doubt,  that  on 
seeing  this  Essay,  my  friend  will  communicate  to  me  the  proof 
in  detail.  But  the  price  of  labor  in  the  south-west  of  England 
is  full  one-third  less  than  in  the  greater  number,  if  not  all,  of. 
the  Northern  Counties.  What  then  is  wanting  ?  Not  the  re- 
peal of  Taxes  ;  but  the  increased  activity  both  of  the  gentry 
and  clergy  of  the  land,  in  securing  the  instruction  of  the  lower 
classes.  A  system  of  education  is  wanting,  such  a  system  as 
that  discovered,  and  to  the  blessings  of  thousands  realized,  by 
Dr.  Bell,  which  I  never  am,  or  can  be  weary  of  praising, 
while  my  heart  retains  any  spark  of  regard  for  Human  Nature, 
or  of  reverence  for  Human  Virtue — A  system,  by  which  in  the 
very  act  of  receiving  knowledge,  the  best  virtues  and  most 
useful  qualities  of  the  moral  character  are  awakened,  develo- 
ped, and  formed  into  habits.  Were  there  a  Bishop  of  Durham 
(no  odds  whether  a  temporal  or  a  spiritual  Lord)  in  every 
county  or  half  county,  and  a  Clergyman  enlightened  with  the 
views  and  animated  with  the  spirit  of  Dr.  Bell,  in  every  par- 
ish, we  might  bid  defiance  to  the  present  weight  of  Taxes,  and 
boldly  challenge  the  whole  world  to  shew  a  Peasantry  as  well 
fed  and  clothed  as  the  English,  or  with   equal  chances  of  im- 


206 

proving  their  situation,  and  of  securing  an  old   age   of  repose 
and  comfort  to  a  life  of  cheerful  industry. 

I  will  add  one  other  anecdote,  as   it   demonstrates,  incontro- 
vertibly,  the   error    of  the   vulgar   opinion,  that   Taxes  make 
things   really   dear,   taking   in   the  whole   of  a   man's   expen- 
diture.    A  friend  of  mine,  who  had  passed  some  years  in  Ame- 
rica,  was  questioned  by  an   American   Tradesman,  in   one  of 
their  cities  of  the  second  class,  concerning  the  names  and  num- 
ber of  our  Taxes  and  Rates.     The  answer  seemed  perfectly  to 
astound  him  :   and  he  exclaimed,  "  How  is   it  possible  that  men 
can  live  in  such  a  country  ?     In   this  land  of  liberty  we  never 
see  the  face  of  a  Tax-gatherer,  nor   hear  of  a  duty  except  in 
our   sea-ports."      My   friend,  who   was  perfect  master   of  the 
question,   made    semblance   of  turning   off  the  conversation  to 
another  subject :  and  then,  without  any  apparant  reference  to 
the  former  topic,  asked  the  American,  for  what  sum  he  thought 
a  man  could  live  in   such  and   such  a  style,   with   so  many  ser- 
vants, in  a  house  of  such  dimensions  and  such  a  situation  (still 
keeping  in  his  mind  the  situation  of  a  thriving  and  respectable 
shop-keeper  and  householder  in   different  parts   of  England,) 
first  supposing  him  to  reside  in  Philadelphia  or  New  York,  and 
then  in  some  town  of  secondary  importance.     Having  received 
a  detailed  answer  to  these  questions,  he  proceeded  to  convince 
the  American,  that  notwithstanding  all  our  Taxes,  a  man  might 
live  in  the  same  style,  but  with  incomparably  greater  comforts, 
on  the  same  income  in  London  as  in  New  York,  and  on  a  con- 
siderably less  income  in  Exeter  or  Bristol,  than  in  any  Ameri- 
can provincial  town  of  the  same  relative  importance.     It  would 
be  insulting  my  Readers  to  discuss  on  how  much  less  a  person 
may  vegetate  or  brutalize  in  the  back  settlements  of  the  repub- 
lic, than  he  could  live  as  a  man,  as  a  rational  and  social  being, 
in  an  English  village  ;  and  it  would  be  wasting  time  to  inform 
him,  that   where    men  are  comparatively  few,   and   unoccupied 
land  is  in  inexhaustible  abundance,  the   Laborer  and  common 
Mechanic  must  needs  receive  (not  only  nominally  but  really) 
higher   wages  than  in  a   populous   and  fully   occupied  country. 
But  that  the  American  Laborer  is  therefore  happier,  or  even  in 
possession  of  more   comforts  and    conveniences  of  life  than  a 
sober  or  industrious   English  Laborer   or  Mechanic,  remains  to 
be  proved.     In  conducting  the    comparison   we   must  not  how- 
ever exclude  the  operation  of  moral  causes,  when  these  causes 


206 

are  not  accidental,  but  arise  out  of  the  nature  of  the  country  and 
the  constitution  of  the  Government  and  Society.  This  being 
the  case,  take  away  from  the  American's  wages  all  the  Taxes 
which  his  insolence,  sloth,  and  attachment  to  spiritous  liquors 
impose  on  him,  and  judge  of  the  remainder  by  his  house,  his 
household  furniture,  and  utensils — and  if  I  have  not  been  grie- 
vously deceived  by  those  whose  veracity  and  good  sense  I 
have  found  unquestionable  in  all  other  respects,  the  cottage  of 
an  honest  English  husbandman,  in  the  service  of  an  enlighten- 
ed and  liberal  Farmer,  who  is  paid  for  his  labor  at  the  price 
usual  in  Yorkshire  or  Northumberland,  would  in  the  mind  of  a 
man  in  the  same  rank  of  life,  who  had  seen  a  true  account  of 
America,  excite  no  ideas  favourable  to  emigration.  This  how- 
ever, I  confess,  is  a  balance  of  morals  rather  than  of  circum- 
stances :  it  proves,  however,  tliat  where  foresight  and  good  mo- 
rals exist,  the  Taxes  do  not  stand  in  the  way  of  an  industrious 
man's  comforts. 

Dr.  Price  almost  succeeded  in  persuading  the  English  nation 
(for  it  is  a  curious  fact,  that  the  fancy  of  our  calamitous  situa- 
tion is  a  sort  of  necessary  sauce  without  which  our  real  prospe- 
rity would  become  insipid  to  us)  Dr.  Price,  I  say,  alarmed  the 
country  with  pretended  proofs  that  the  island  was  in  a  rapid 
state  of  depopulation,  that  England  at  the  Revolution  had  been, 
Heaven  knows  how  much  !  more  populous  ;  and  that  in  queen 
Elizabeth's  time  or  about  the  Reformation  (!!!)  the  number  of 
inhabitants  in  England,  might  have  been  greater  than  even  at 
the  Revolution.  My  old  mathematical  master,  a  man  of  an  un- 
commonly clear  head,  answered  this  blundering  book  of  the 
worthy  Doctor's,  and  left  not  a  stone  unturned  of  the  pompous 
cenotaph  in  which  the  effigy  of  the  still  living  and  bustling 
English  prosperity  lay  interred.  And  yet  so  much  more  suita- 
ble was  the  Doctor's  book  to  the  purposes  of  faction,  and  to 
the  November  mood  of  (what  is  called)  the  Public,  that  Mr. 
Wales's  pamphlet,  though  a  masterpiece  of  perspicacity  as  well 
as  perspicuity,  w\is  scarcely  heard  of.  This  tendency  to  politi- 
cal night-marcs  in  our  countrymen  reminds  me  of  a  supersti- 
tion, or  rather  nervous  disease,  not  uncommon  in  the  highlands 
of  Scotland,  in  which  men,  though  broad  awake,  imagine  they 
see  themselves  lying  dead  at  a  small  distance  from  them.  The 
act  of  Parliament  for  ascertaining  the  population  of  the  empire 
has  laid  forever  this  uneasy  ghost:  and  now,  forsooth!  we  are 


807 

on  the  brink  of  ruin  from  the  excess  of  population,  and  he  who 
would  prevent  the  poor  from  rotting  away  in  disease,  misery, 
and  wickedness,  is  an  enemy  to  his  country  !  A  lately  decea- 
sed miser,  of  immense  wealth,  is  reported  to  have  been  so  de- 
lighted with  this  splendid  discovery,  as  to  have  offered  a  hand- 
some annuity  to  the  Author,  in  part  of  payment,  for  this  new 
and  welcome  piece  of  heart-armour.  This,  however,  we  may 
deduce  from  the  fact  of  our  increased  population,  that  if  cloth- 
ing and  food  had  actually  become  dearer  in  proportion  to  the 
means  of  procuring  them,  it  would  be  as  absurd  to  ascribe  this 
effect  to  increased  Taxation,  as  to  attribute  the  scantiness  of 
fare,  at  a  public  ordinary,  to  the  landlord's  bill,  when  twice  the 
usual  number  of  guests  had  sat  down  to  the  same  number  of 
dishes.  But  the  fact  is  notoriously  otherwise,  and  every  man  has 
the  means  of  discovering  it  in  his  own  house  and  in  that  of  his 
neighbors,  provided  that  he  makes  the  proper  allowances  for 
the  disturbing  forces  of  individual  vice  and  imprudence.  If 
this  be  the  case,  I  put  it  to  the  consciences  of  our  literary  dem- 
agogues, whether  a  lie,  for  the  purposes  of  creating  public  dis- 
union and  dejection,  is  not  as  much  a  lie,  as  one  for  the  purpose 
of  exciting  discord  among  individuals.  I  entreat  my  readers  to 
recollect,  that  the  present  question  does  not  concern  the  effects 
of  taxation  on  the  public  independence  and  on  the  supposed 
balance  of  the  free  constitutional  powers,  (from  which  said  ba- 
lance, as  well  as  from  the  balance  of  trade,  I  own,  I  have  ne- 
ver been  able  to  elicit  one  ray  of  common  sense.)  That  the 
nature  of  our  constitution  has  been  greatly  modified  by  the 
funding  system,  I  do  not  deny  :  whether  for  good  or  for  evil,  on 
the  whole,  will  form  part  of  my  Essay  on  the  British  Constitu- 
tion as  it  actually  exists. 

There  are  many  and  great  public  evils,  all  of  which  are  to 
be  lamented,  some  of  which  may  be,  and  ought  to  be  removed, 
and  none  of  which  can  consistently  with  wisdom  or  honesty  be 
kept  concealed  from  the  public.  As  far  as  these  originate  in 
false  Principles,  or  in  the  contempt  or  neglect  of  right  ones 
(and  as  such  belonging  to  the  plan  of  The  Friend,)  I  shall 
not  hesitate  to  make  known  my  opinions  concerning  them,  with 
the  same  fearless  simplicity  with  which  I  have  endeavoured  to 
expose  the  errors  of  discontent  and  the  artifices  of  faction. 
But  for  the  very  reason  that  there  are  great  evils,  the  more 
does  it  behove  us  not  to  open  out  on  a  false  scent. 


208 

I  will  conclude  this  Essay  with  the  examination  of  an  arti- 
cle in  a  provincial  paper  of  a  recent  date,  which  is  now  lying 
before  me ;  the  accidental  perusual  of  which,  occasioned  the 
whole  of  the  preceding  remarks.  In  order  to  guard  against  a 
possible  mistake,  I  must  premise,  that  I  have  not  the  most  dis- 
tant intention  of  defending  the  plan  or  conduct  of  our  late  ex- 
peditions, and  should  be  grossly  calumniated  if  I  were  repre- 
sented as  an  advocate  for  carelessness  or  prodigality  in  the 
management  of  the  public  purse.  The  money  may  or  may  not 
have  been  culpably  wasted.  I  confine  myself  entirely  to  the 
general  falsehood  of  the  principle  in  the  article  here  cited;  for 
1  am  convinced,  that  any  hopes  of  reform  originating  in  such 
notions,  must  end  in  disappointment  and  public  mockery. 

"  OJVLY  A  FEW  MILLIOJ^S! 

We  have  unfortunately  of  late  been  so  much  accustomed  to  read  of  mil- 
lions being  spent  in  one  expedition,  and  millions  being  spent  in  another,  that  a 
comparative  insignificance  is  attached  to  an  immense  sum  of  money,  by  cal- 
ling it  only  a  few  millions.  Perhaps  some  of  our  readers  may  have  their  judg- 
ment a  little  improved  by  malting  a  few  calculations,  like  those  below,  on 
the  millions  which  it  has  been  estimated  will  be  lost  to  the  nation  by  the 
late  expedition  to  Holland  ;  and  then  perhaps,  they  will  be  led  to  reflect  on 
the  many  millions  which  are  annually  expended  in  expeditions,  which  have 
almost  invariably  ended  in  absolute  loss. 

In  the  first  place,  with  less  money  than  it  cost  the  nation  to  take  Walche- 
ren,  &c.  with  the  view  of  taking  or  destroying  the  French  fleet  at  Antwerp, 
consisting  of  nine  sail  of  the  line,  we  could  have  completely  built  and  equip- 
ped, ready  for  sea,  a  fleet  of  ui)\vards  of  one  hundred  sail  of  the  line. 

Or,  secondly,  a  new  town  could  be  built  in  every  county  of  England,  and 
each  town  consist  of  upwards  of  1,000  substantial  houses  for  a  less  sum. 

Or,  thirdly,  it  would  have  been  enough  to  give  100/.  to  2.000  poor  families 
in  every  county  in  England  and  Wales. 

Or,  fourthly,  it  would  be  more  than  sufficient  to  give  a  handsome  marriage 
portion  to  200,000 young  women,  who  probably,  if  they  had  even  less  than 
501.  woidd  not  long  remain  unsolicited  to  enter  the  ha])i)y  state. 

Or,  fifthly,  a  much  less  sum  would  enable  the  legislature  to  establish  a  life 
boat  in  every  port  in  the  United  Kingdom,  and  provide  for  10  or  12  men  to 
he  kept  in  constant  attendance  on  each ;  and  100,000/.  could  be  fimded,  the 
interest  of  which  to  be  a-pplied  in  premiiuns,  to  those  who  should  prove  to 
be  particularly  active  in  savhig  lives  from  wrecks,  &lc.  and  to  provide  for 
the  widows  and  chihben  of  those  men  who  may  accidentally  lose  dieir  lives 
in  the  cause  of  humanity. 

This  interesting  appiopriation  of  10  millions  sterling,  may  lead  our  rea- 
ders to  think  of  the  great  good  that  can  be  clone  by  only  a  few  millions." 

The  exposure  of  this  calculation  will  require  but  a  few  sen- 
tences. These  ten  millions  were  expended,  I  presume,  in  arms, 


J0» 

artillery,  ammunition,  clothing,  provision,  &c.  &e.  for  about  one 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand  British  subjects  :  and  I  presume 
that  all  these  consumables  were  produced  by,  and  purchased 
from,  other  British  subjects.  Now  during  the  building  of  these 
new  towns  for  a  thousand  inhabitants  each  in  every  county,  or 
the  distribution  of  the  hundred  pound  bank  notes  to  the  two 
thousand  poor  families,  were  the  industrious  ship-builders,  cloth- 
iers, charcoal-burners,  gunpowder-makers,  gunsmiths,  cutlers, 
cannon-founders,  tailors,  and  shoemakers,  to  be  left  unemploy- 
ed and  starving  ?  or  our  brave  soldiers  and  sailors  to  have  re- 
mained without  food  and  raiment  ?  And  where  is  the  proof, 
that  these  ten  millions,  which  (obseive)  all  remain  in  the  king- 
dom, do  not  circulate  as  beneficially  in  the  one  way  as  they 
would  in  the  other?  Which  is  better?  To  give  money  to  the 
idle,  the  houses  to  those  who  do  not  ask  for  them,  and  towns  to 
counties  which  have  already  perhaps  too  many  ?  Or  to  afford 
opportunity  to  the  industrious  to  earn  their  bread,  and  to  the  en- 
terprizing  to  better  their  circumstances,  and  perhaps  found  new 
families  of  independent  proprietors  ?  The  only  mode,  not  abso- 
lutely absurd,  of  considering  the  subject,  would  be,  not  by  the 
calculation  of  the  money  expended,  but  of  the  labour  o(  which 
the  money  is  a  symbol.  But  t/ien  the  question  would  be  remo- 
ved altogether  from  the  expedition  :  for  assuredly,  neither  the 
armies  were  raised,  nor  the  fleets  built  or  manned  for  the  sake 
of  conquering  the  Isle  of  Walcheren,  nor  would  a  single  regi- 
ment have  been  disbanded,  or  a  single  sloop  paid  off,  though 
the  Isle  of  Walcheren  had  never  existed.  The  whole  dispute, 
therefore,  resolves  itself  to  this  one  question:  whether  our  sol- 
diers and  sailors  would  not  be  better  employed  in  making  canals 
for  instance,  or  cultivating  waste  lands,  than  in  fighting  or  in 
learning  to  fight ;  and  the  tradesman,  &c.  in  making  grey  coats 
instead  of  red  or  blue — and  ploughshares,  &c.  instead  of  arms. 
When  I  reflect  on  the  state  of  China  and  the  moral  character  of 
the  Chinese,  I  dare  not  positively  affirm  that  it  ivould  be  better. 
When  the  fifteen  millions,  which  form  our  present  population, 
shall  have  attained  to  the  same  purity  of  morals  and  of  primi- 
tive Christianity,  and  shall  be  capable  of  being  governed  by  the 
same  admirable  discipline,  as  the  Society  of  the  Friends,  I  doubt 
not  that  we  should  be  all  Quakers  in  this  as  in  the  other  points 
of  their  moral  doctrine.  But  were  this  transfer  of  employment 
desirable,  is  it  practicable  at  present,  is  it  in  our  power  ?  These 


210 

men  knotv,  that  it  is  not.     What  then   does  all  their  reasoning 
amount  to  ?     Nonsense  ! 


E88AY    IV 


I  have  not  intentionally  either  hidden  or  disguised  the  Truth,  like  an  advocate 
ashamed  of  his  client,  or  a  bribed  accomptant  who  falsifies  the  quotient  to 
make  the  bankrupt's  ledgers  square  with  the  creditor's  inventory.  My  con- 
science forbids  the  use  of  falsehood  and  the  arts  of  concealment:  and  were 
it  otherwise,  yet  I  am  persuaded,  that  a  system  which  has  produced  and  pro- 
tected so  great  prosperity,  cannot  stand  in  need  of  them.  If  therefore  Ho- 
nesty and  the  Knowledge  of  the  whole  Truth  be  the  things  you  aim  at, 
you  will  find  my  principles  suited  to  your  ends :  and  as  I  like  not  the  demo- 
cratic forms,  so  am  I  not  fond  of  any  others  above  the  rest.  That  a  suc- 
ession  of  wise  and  godly  men  may  be  secured  to  the  nation  in  the  highest 
power  is  that  to  which  I  have  directed  your  attention  in  this  Essay,  which 
if  you  will  read,  perhaps  you  may  see  the  error  of  those  i)rinci])les  which 
have  led  you  into  errors  of  practice.  I  wrote  it  purposely  for  the  use  of  the 
multitude  of  well-meaning  people,  that  are  tempted  in  these  times  to  usurp 
authority  and  meddle  with  government  before  they  have  any  call  from  duty 
or  tolerable  understanding  of  its  principles.  I  never  intended  it  for  learned 
men  versed  in  politics ;  but  for  such  as  will  be  practitioners  before  they 
have  been   students." 

Baxter's  Holy  Comrnomvealth,  or  Political  Apfwrisvis. 


The  metaphysical  (or  as  I  have  proposed  to  call  them,  meta- 
political)  reasonings  hitherto  discussed,  belong  to  Government 
in  the  abstract.  But  there  is  a  second  class  of  Reasoners,  who 
argue  for  a  change  in  our  Government  from  former  usage,  and 
from  statutes  still  in  force,  or  which  have  been  repealed,  (so 
these  writers  affirm)  either  through  a  corrupt  influence,  or  to 
ward  ofl"  temporary  hazard  or  inconvenience.  This  class,  which 
is  rendered  illustrious  by  the  names  of  many  intelligent  and 
virtuous  patriots,  are  advocates  for  reform  in  the  literal  sense  of 


211 

the  word.  They  wish  to  bring  back  the  Government  of  Great 
Britain  to  a  certain yb?v?i,  which  they  affirm  it  to  have  once  pos- 
sessed ;  and  would  melt  the  bullion  anew  in  order  to  recast  it 
in  the  original  mould. 

The  answer  to  all  arguments  of  this  nature  is  obvious,  and  to 
my  understanding  appears  decisive.     These  Reformers  assume 
the  character  of  Legislators  or  of  Advisers  of  the  Legislature, 
not  that  of  Law  Judges  or  appellants  to  Courts  of  Law.     Sun- 
dry statutes  concerning  the  rights  of  electors  (we  will  suppose) 
still  exist ;  so  likewise  do  sundry  statutes  on  other  subjects  (on 
witchcraft  for  instance)   which    change  of  circumstances  have 
rendered  obsolete,  or  increased  information  shewn  to  be  absurd. 
It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  expediency  of  the  regulations 
prescribed  by  them,  and  their  suitableness  to  the  existing  cir- 
cumstances of  the  kingdom,  must  first  be  proved  :  and  on  this 
proof  must  be  rested  all  rational  claims  for  the  enforcement  of 
the  statutes  that  have  not,  no  less  than  for  the  re-acting  of  those 
that  have  been,   repealed.     If  the   authority  of  the   men,  who 
first  enacted  the  Laws  in  question,  is  to  weigh  with  us,  it  must 
be  on  the  presumption  that  they  were  wise  men.     But  the  wis- 
dom of  Legisladon  consists  in   the   adaptation  of  Laws  to  cir- 
cumstances.    If  then  it  can  be  proved,  that  the  circumstances*, 
under  which  those   laws  were   enacted,   no   longer   exist ;  aiia 
that  other  circumstances  altogether   different,   and  in   some  in- 
stances opposite,   have  taken   their  place  ;  we   have   the  best 
grounds  for  supposing,  that  if  the   men  were   now   alive,  they 
would  not  pass  tiie  same  statutes.     In  other  words,  the  spirit  of 
the  statute  interpreted  by  the  intention  of  the  Legislator  would 
annul  the  letter  of  it.     It  is  not   indeed   impossible,  that  by  a 
rare  felicity  of  accident  the  same  law  may  apply  to  two  sets  of 
circumstances.     But  surely  the  presumption  is,  that  regulations 
well  adapted  for  the  manners,  the    social   distinctions,  and  the 
state  of  property,  of  opinion,  and  of  external  relations  of  Eng- 
land in  the   reign  of  Alfred,  or   even   in   that   of  Edward  the 
First,  will  not  be  well  suited  to  Great  Britain   at  the  close  of 
the  reign  of  George   the    Third.     For   instance  :    at   the  time 
when  the  greater  part  of  the    cottagers   and   inferior   farmers 
were  in  a  state  of  villenage,  when  Sussex  alone  contained  seven 
thousand,  and  the  Isle   of  Wight   twelve    hundred   families  of 
bondsmen,  it  was  the  law  of  the  land  that  every /ree»irtn  should 
vote   in  the  Assembly   of  the   Nation  personally  or  by  his  re- 


212 

presentative.  An  act  of  Parliament  in  the  year  1660  confirm- 
ed what  a  concurrence  of  causes  had  previously  effected  :— - 
every  Englishman  is  now  born  free,  the  laws  of  the  land  are 
the  birth-right  of  every  native,  and  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
honorary  privileges  all  classess  obey  the  same  Laws.  Now,  ar- 
gues one  of  our  political  writers,  it  being  made  the  constitution 
of  the  land  by  our  Saxon  ancestors,  that  every  freeman  should 
have  a  vote,  and  ail  Englishmen  being  now  born  free,  there- 
fore, by  the  constitution  of  the  land,  every  Englishman  has  now 
a  right  to  vote.  How  shall  we  reply  to  this  without  breach  of 
that  respect,  to  which  the  Reasoner  at  least,  if  not  the  Reason- 
ing, is  entitled  ?  If  it  be  the  definition  of  a  pun,  that  it  is  the 
confusion  of  two  different  meanings,  under  the  same  or  similar 
sound,  we  might  almost  characterize  this  argument  as  being 
grounded  on  a  grave  pun.  Our  ancestors  established  the  right 
of  voting  in  a  particular  class  of  men,  forming  at  that  time  the 
middle  rank  of  society,  and  known  to  be  all  of  them,  or  almost 
all,  legal  proprietors — and  these  were  then  called  the  Freemen 
of  England  :  there/ore  they  established  it  in  the  lowest  classes 
of  society,  in  those  who  possess  no  property,  because  these  too 
are  now  called  by  the  same  name  !!  Under  a  similar  pretext, 
grounded  on  the  same  precious  logic,  a  Mameluke  Bey  extort- 
ed a  large  contribution  iVom  the  Egyptain  Jews  :  "  These  books 
(the  Pentateuch)  are  authentic  ?" — Yes  !  "  Well,  the  debt  then 
is  acknowledged  : — and  now  the  receipt,  or  the  money,  or  your 
heads!  The  Jeivs  borrowed  a  large  treasure  from  the  Egyp- 
tians ;  but  you  are  the  Jews,  and  on  you,  therefore,  I  call  for  the 
repayment."  Besides,  if  a  law  is  to  be  interpreted  by  the 
known  intention  of  its  makers,  the  Parliament  in  1660,  which 
declared  all  the  natives  of  England  freemen,  but  neither  altered 
nor  meant  thereby  to  alter  the  limitations  of  the  right  of  elec- 
tion, did  to  all  intents  and  purposes  except  that  right  from  the 
common  privileges  of  Englishmen,  as  Englishmen. 

A  moment's  reflection  may  convince  us,  that  every  single 
Statute  is  made  under  the  knowledge  of  all  the  other  Laws, 
with  which  it  is  meant  to  co-exist,  and  by  which  its  action  is 
to  be  modified  and  determined.  In  the  legislative  as  in  the 
religious  code,  the  text  must  not  be  taken  without  the  context. 
Now,  I  think,  we  may  safely  leave  it  to  the  Reformers  them- 
selves to  make  choice  between  the  civil  and  political  privileges 
of  Englishmen  at  present,   considered  as  one  sum   total,  and 


213 

those  of  our  Ancestors  in  any  former  period  of  our  History, 
considered  as  another,  on  the  old  principle,  take  one  and  leave 
the  other;  but  whichever  you  take,  take  it  all  or  none. 
Laws  seldom  become  obsolete  as  long  as  they  are  both  useful 
and  practicable  ;  but  should  there  be  an  exception,  there  is  no 
other  way  of  reviving  its  validity  but  by  convincing  the  exist- 
ing Legislature  of  its  undiminished  practicability  and  expedi- 
ence ;  which  in  all  essential  points  is  the  same  as  the  recom- 
mending of  a  new  Law.  And  this  leads  me  to  the  third  class 
of  the  advocates  of  Reform,  those,  namely,  who  leaving  an- 
cient statutes  to  Lawyers  and  Historians,  and  universal  princi- 
ples with  the  demonstrable  deductions  from  them  to  the  Schools 
of  Logic,  Mathematics,  Theology,  and  Ethics,  rest  all  their 
measures,  which  they  wish  to  see  adopted,  wholly  on  their 
expediency.  Consequently,  they  must  hold  themselves  pre- 
pared to  give  such  proof,  as  the  nature  of  comparative  expe- 
diency admits,  and  to  bring  forward  such  evidence,  as  experi- 
ence and  the  logic  of  probability  can  supply,  that  the  plans 
Avhich  they  recommend  for  adoption,  are  :  first,  practicable  ; 
secondly,  suited  to  the  existing  circumstances ;  and  lastly,  ne- 
cessary or  at  least  requisite,  and  such  as  will  enable  the  Gov- 
ernment to  accomplish  more  perfectly  the  ends  for  which  it 
was  instituted.  These  are  the  three  indispensable  conditions 
of  all  prudent  change,  the  credentials,  with  which  Wisdom 
never  fails  to  furnish  her  public  envoys.  Whoever  brings  for- 
ward a  measure  that  combines  this  threefold  excellence,  wheth- 
er in  the  Cabinet,  the  Senate,  or  by  means  of  the  Press,  mer- 
its emphatically  the  title  of  a  prtriotic  Statesman.  Neither  are 
they  without  a  fair  claim  to  respectful  attention  as  State- Coun- 
sellors, who  fully  aware  of  these  conditions,  and  with  a  due 
sense  of  the  difficulty  of  fulfilling  them,  employ  their  time  and 
talents  in  making  the  attempt.  An  imperfect  plan  is  not  ne- 
cessarily a  useless  plan  :  and  in  a  complex  enigma  the  great- 
est ingenuity  is  not  always  shewn  by  him  who  first  gives  the 
complete  solution.  The  dwarf  sees  farther  than  the  giant, 
when  he  has  the  giant's  shoulders  to  mount  on. 

Thus,  as  perspicuously  as  I  could,  1  have  exposed  the  erro- 
neous principles  of  political  Philosophy,  and  pointed  out  the  one 
only  ground  on  which  the  constitution  of  Governments  can  be 
either  condemned  or  justified  by  wise  men. 

If  I  interpret  aright  the  signs  of  the   times,   that   branch  of 


214 

politics  which  relates  to  the  necessity  and  practicability  of  in- 
fusing new  life  into  our  Legislature,  as  the  best  means  of  secu- 
ring talent  and  wisdom  in  the  Cabinet,  will  shortly  occupy  the 
public  attention  with  a  paramount  interest.*  I  would  gladly 
therefore  suggest  the  proper  state  of  feeling  and  the  right  pre- 
paratory notions  with  which  this  disquisition  should  be  entered 
upon  :  and  I  do  not  know  how  I  can  effect  this  more  naturally, 
than  by  relating  the  facts  and  circumstances  which  influenced 
my  own  mind.  I  can  scarcely  be  accused  of  egotism  as  in 
the  communications  and  conversations  which  I  am  about  to 
mention  as  having  occurred  to  me  during  my  residence  abroad, 
I  am  no  otherwise  the  hero  of  the  tale,  than  as  being  the  pas- 
sive receiver  or  auditor.  But  above  all,  let  it  not  be  forgotten, 
that  in  the  following  paragraphs  I  speak  as  a  Christian  Moralist, 
not  as  a  Statesman. 

To  examine  any  thing  wisely,  two  conditions  are  requisite  : 
first,  a  distinct  notion  of  the  desirable  ends,  in  the  complete 
.accomplishment  of  which  would  consist  the  perfection  of  such 
;a  thing,  or  its  ideal  excellence  ;  and,  secondly,  a  calm  and 
kindly  mode  of  feeling,  without  which  we  shall  hardly  fail  ei- 
ther to  overlook,  or  not  to  make  due  allowances  for,  the  cir- 
cumstances which  prevent  these  ends  from  being  all  perfectly 
realized  in  the  particular  thing  which  we  are  to  examine.  For 
instance,  we  must  have  a  general  notion  what  a  Man  can  be  and 
jought  to  be,  before  we  can  fitly  proceed  to  determine  on  the 
merits  or  demerits  of  any  one  individual.  For  the  examina- 
tion of  our  own  Government,  I  prepared  my  mind,  therefore, 
by  a  short  Catechism,  which  I  shall  communicate  in  the  next 
Essay,  and  on  which  the  letter  and  anecdotes  that  follow,  will, 
I  flatter  myself,  be  found  an  amusing,  if  not  an  instructive  com- 
mentary. 

*I  iim  in  doubt  whetlicr  the  five  Imnclreri  pctitioiif!,  presented  at  the  same 
time  to  the  House  of  Conunons  by  tlie  Meml)er  for  Westminster,  are  to  he 
considered  as  a  fultihncnt  of  this  |)ropheey.  I  iiave  heard  the  echoes  of  a 
single  blunderbuss,  on  one  of  our  Cumberland  lakes,  imitate  the  volley  from 
a  whole  regiment. 


ESSAY    V. 


Hoc  potissimum  pacto  felicem  ac  magnum  regem  se  fore  judicans  :  non  si  quam 
plurimis  sed  si  quam  optimis  imperet.  Proinde  pannn  esse  putat  jitstis  prcesi- 
diis  rfgnum  simm  muniisse,  iiisi  idem  viris  eruditione  juxta  ac  vifcc  integntate 
prcecellentihus  ditet  atqite  honestel.  ,\'i7ninim  intdligit  hcec  demum  esse  vera 
regni  decora,  has  veras  opes :  hanc  veram  et  mdlis  unquam  secidis  cessuram  glo- 
riam. — Eras.  Rot.  R.  S.  Poncherio,  Episc.  Parisien.  Epistola. 

Translation. — Judging  that  he  will  have  employed  the  most  effectual  means 
of  being  a  liappy  and  powerful  king,  not  by  governing  the  most  numerous 
but  the  most  moral  people.  He  deemed  of  small  sufficiency  to  have  pro- 
tected the  country  by  fleets  and  garrison,  unless  he  should  at  the  sametinie; 
enrich  and  ornament  it  with  men  of  eminent  learning  and  sanctity. 


In  what  do  all  States  agree.''  A  number  of  men — exert — - 
power — in  union.  Wherein  do  they  differ.''  1st.  In  the  qua- 
lity and  quantity  of  the  poioers.  One  possesses  Chemists,  Me- 
chanists, Mechanics  of  all  kinds,  Men  of  Science  ;  and  the  arts 
of  ivar  and  peace ;  and  its  Citizens  naturally  strong  and  of 
habitual  courage.  Another  State  may  possess  none  or  a  few 
only  of  these,  or  the  same  more  imperfectly.  Or  of  two  States 
possessing  the  same  in  equal  perfection  the  one  is  more  numer- 
ous than  the  other,  as  France  and  Switzerland.  2d.  In  the 
more  or  less  perfect  union  of  these  powers.  Compare  Mr. 
Leckie^s  valuable  and  authentic  documents  respecting  the  state 
of  Sicily  with  the  preceding  Essay  on  Taxation.  3dly.  In  the 
greater  or  less  activity  of  exertion.  Think  of  the  ecclesiasti- 
cal State  and  its  silent  metropolis,  and  then  of  the  county  of 
Lancaster  and  the  towns  of  Manchester  and  Liverpool.  What 
is  the  condition  of  powers  exerted  in  union  by  a  number  of 
men  .''  A  Government.  What  are  the  ends  of  Government  ? 
They  are  of  two  kinds,  negative  and  positive.  The  negative 
ends   of  Government  are   the   protection   of  life,   of  personal 


216 

freedom,  of  property,  of  reputation,   and   of  religion,  from  for- 
eign and  from  domestic  attacks.     The  positive  ends  are,  1st.  to 
make  the  means   of  subsistence  more   easy  to  each  individual : 
2d.  that  in  addition  to  the  necessaries  of  life   he  should  derive 
from  the  union  and  division  of  labour   a  share  of  the  comforts 
and  conveniences  which  humanize  and  ennoble  his  nature  ;  and 
at  the  same  time  the  power  of  perfecting  himself  in  his  own 
branch  of  industry  by  having  those  things  which  he  needs  pro- 
vided for  him  by  others  among  his   fellow-citizens  ;  including 
the  tools  and  raw  or  manufactured   materials  necessary  for  his 
own  employment.     /  knew  a  profound  mathematician  in  Sici- 
ly, who  had  devoted  a  full  third  of  his  life  to  the  perfecting 
the  discovery  of  the  Longitude,  and  who  had  convinced  not  on- 
ly himself  but   the  principal  mathematicians  of  Messina  and 
Palermo  that  he  had  succeeded  ;  hut  neither  throughout  Sicily 
or  Naples  could  he  find  a  single  Artist  capable  of  constructing 
the  instrument  ivhich  he  had  invented.*     3dly.  The  hope  of 
bettering  his  own  condition  and  that  of  his  children.    The  civil- 
ized man  gives  up  those  stimulants  of  hope  and  fear  which 
constitute  the  chief  charm  of  the  savage  life :  and  yet  his  ma- 
ker has  distinguished  him  from  the  brute  that  perishes,  by  ma- 
king Hope  an  instinct  of  his  nature  and  an  indispensable  con- 
dition of  his  moral  and  intellectual  progression.     But  a  natu- 
ral instinct  constitutes  a  natural  right,  as  far  as  its  gratifica- 
timi  is  compatible  ivith  the  equal  rights  of  others.     Hence  our 
ancestors  classed  those  who  were  bound  to  the  soil  (addicti  gle- 
bee)  and  incapable  by  law  of  altering  their  condition  from  that 
of  their  parents,  as  bondsmen  or  villeins,  however  advantage- 


*Tlie  good  man,  who  is  i)oor.  okl,  and  blind,  universally  esteemed  for  the 
innocence  ai;d  austerity  of  his  life  not  less  than  for  his  learning,  and  yet  uni- 
ver?ally  neglected,  except  by  persons  almost  as  poor  as  himself,  strongly  re- 
minded me  of  a  German  epigram  on  Kepler,  which  may  be  thus  translated  ^ 

No  mortal  spirit  yet  had  clomb  so  high 
As  Kepler — yet  his  country  saw  him  die 
For  very  want !  the  ynindsi  alone  he  fed, 
vVnd  so  the  bodies  left  him  without  bread. 

The  good  old  man  presented  me  with  the  book  in  which  he  has  described 
and  demonstrated  his  invention:  and  I  should  with  great  pleasure  transmit  it 
to  any  math(>matician  who  would  feel  an  interest  in  examining  it  and  com- 
municating his  opinions  on  its  merits. 


217 

ously  they  might  otherwise  he  situated.  Reflect  on  the  direful 
effects  of  casts  in  Hindostan^  and  then  trasfer  yourself  infan- 
cy to  an  English  cottage, 

"  Where  o'er  the  cradled  Infant  bending 
Hope  has  fix'd  her  wishful  gaze," 

and  the  fond  mother  dreams  of  her  child's  future  fortunes — 
who  knows  but  he  may  come  home  a  rich  merchant,  like  such  a 
one  ?  or  be  a  bishop  or  a  judge  ?  The  prizes  are  indeed  few 
and  rare  ;  but  still  they  are  possible  :  and  the  hope  is  univer- 
sal, and  perhaps  occasions  more  happiness  than  even  its  fulfil- 
ment. Lastly,  the  developement  of  those  faculties  which  are 
essential  to  his  human  nature  by  the  knowledge  of  his  moral 
and  religious  duties,  and  the  increase  of  his  intellectual  powers 
in  as  great  a  degree,  as  is  compatible  with  the  other  ends  of 
social  union,  and  does  not  involve  a  contradiction.  The  poor- 
est Briton  possesses  much  and  important  knowledge,  tvhich  he 
would  not  have  had,  if  Newton,  Luther,  Calvin,  and  their  com-^ 
peers  had  not  existed  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  the  means  of  sci-^ 
ence  and  learning  could  not  exist,  if  all  men  had  a  right  to  be- 
made  profound  Mathematicians  or  men  of  extensive  erudition.. 
Still  instruction  is  one  of  the  ends  of  Government :  for  it  is: 
that  only  which  makes  the  abandonment  of  the  savage  state  an 
ABSOLUTE  DUTY  :  and  that  Constitution  is  the  best,  under  which 
the  average  sum  of  useful  knowledge  is  the  greatest,  and  the- 
causes  that  awaken  and  encourage  talent  and  genius,  the  most , 
powerful  and  various. 

These  were  my  preparatory  notions.  The  influences  under 
which  I  proceeded  to  re-examine  our  own  Constitution,  were 
the  following,  which  I  give,  not  exactly  as  they  occurred,  but 
in  the  order  in  which  they  will  be  illustrative  of  the  different 
articles  of  the  preceding  paragraph.  That  we  are  better  and 
happier  than  others  is  indeed  no  reason  for  our  not  becoming 
still  better ;  especially  as  with  states,  as  well  as  individuals, 
not  to  be  progressive  is  to  be  retrograde.  Yet  the  comparison 
will  usefully  temper  the  desire  of  improvement  with  love  and 
a  sense  of  gratitude  for  what  we  already  are. 

28 


218 

I.  A  Letter  received,  at  Malta  from  an  American  officer  of 
high  rank,  who  has  since  received  the  thanks  and  rewards  of 
the  congress  for  his  services  in  the  Mediterranean. 

Grand  Cairo,  Dec.  13,  1804. 
Sir, — The  same  reason,  which  induced  me  to  request  letters 
of  introduction  to   his   Britannic   Majesty's  Agents  here,  sug- 
gested the  propriety  of  shewing  an   English  jack   at  the  main 
topgallant  mast  head,   on   entering   the   port  of  Alexandria  on 

the  26th  ult.     The  signal  was  recognized  ;  and  Mr.  B was 

immediately  on  board. 

We  found  in  port,  a  Turkish  Vice  Admiral,  with  a  ship  of 
the  line,  and  six  frigates  ;  a  part  of  which  squadron  is  station- 
ed there  to  preserve  the  tranquillity  of  the  country  ;  with  just 
as  much  influence  as  the  same  number  of  Pelicans  would  have 
on  the  same  station. 

On  entering  and  passing  the  streets  of  Alexandria,  I  could 
not  but  notice  the  very  marked  satisfaction,  which  every  ex- 
pression and  every  countenance  of  all  denominations,  of  peo- 
ple, Turks  and  Frenchmen  only  excepted,  manifested  under 
an  impression  that  we  were  the  avant-courier  of  an  English 
army.  They  had  conceived  this  from  observing  the  English 
jack  at  our  main,  taking  our  flag  perhaps  for  that  of  a  saint, 
and  because  as  is  common  enough  every  where,  they  were  rea- 
dy to  believe  what  they  wished.  It  would  have  been  cruel  to 
have  undeceived  them  :  consequently  without  positively  assum- 
ing it,  we  passed  in  the  character  of  Englishmen  among  the 
middle  and  lower  orders  of  society,  and  as  their  allies  among 
those  of  better  information.  Wherever  we  entered  or  where- 
ever  halted,  we  were  surrounded  by  the  wretched  inhabitants ; 
and  stunned  with  their  benedictions  and  prayers  for  blessings 
on  us.  "  VV^ill  the  English  come  ?  Are  they  coming  ?  God 
grant  the  English  may  come  !  we  have  no  commerce — we  have 
no  money — we  have  no  bread  !  When  will  the  English  ar- 
rive !"  My  answer  was  uniformly.  Patience!  The  same  tone 
was  heard  at  Rosetta  as  among  the  Alexandrians,  indicative  of 
the  same  dispositions;  only  it  was  not  so  loud,  because  the  in- 
habitants are  less  miserable,  although  without  any  traits  of  hap- 
piness. On  the  fourth  we  left  that  village  for  Cairo,  and  for 
our  security  as  well  as  to  facilitate  our  procurement  of  accom- 
modations during  our  voyage,  as  well  as  our  stay  there,  the 
resident  directed     his    secretary,   Capt.    V ,    to    accompa- 


S19 

ny  us,  and  to  give  us  lodgings  in  his  house.  We  ascended  the 
Nile  leisurely,  and  calling  at  several  villages,  it  was  plainly 
perceivable  that  the  rational  partiality,  the  strong  and  open  ex- 
pression of  which  proclaimed  so  loudly  the  feelings  of  the 
Egyptians  of  the  sea  coast,  was  general  throughout  the  coun- 
try :  and  the  prayers  for  the  return  of  the  English  as  earnest 
as  universal. 

On  the  morning  of  the  sixth  we  went  on  shore  at  the  village 
of  Sabour.     The  villagers   expressed  an  enthusiastic  gladness 
at  seeing  red  and  blue  uniforms  and  round  hats   (the  French,  I 
believe,    wear   three-cornered  ones.)      Two  days  before,  five 
hundred  Albanian  deserters  from  the  Viceroy's  army  had  pilla- 
ged and  left  this  village  ;    at  which  they  had  lived  at  free  quar- 
ters about  four   weeks. — The   famishing   inhabitants  were  now 
distressed  with  apprehensions  from   another  quaiter.     A  com- 
pany of  wild  Arabs  were  encamped   in   sight.     They  dreaded 
their  ravages  and  apprised  us  of  danger  from  them.     We  were 
eighteen   in  the  party,   well    armed ;    and   a  pretty  brisk   fire 
which  we  raised   around  the  numerous  flocks  of  pigeons  and 
other  small  fowl   in   the   environs,  must   have    deterred   them 
from  mischief,  if,  as  is  most  probable,  they  had  meditated  any 
against  us.      Scarcely,  however,  were  we  on  board  and  under 
weigh,  when  we   saw   these   mounted  marauders  of  the   desert 
fall  furiously  upon  the  herds  of  camels,  buffaloes,  and  cattle  of 
the  village,  and  drive   many  of  them  off  w^holly  unannoyed  on 
the   part   of  the   unresisting   inhabitants,   unless    their  shrieks 
could   be    deemed   an  annoyance.     They  afterwards   attacked 
and  robbed  several   unarmed  boats,   which   were  a  few  hours 
astern   of   us.     The   most    insensible  must    surely   have   been 
moved  by  the  situation  of  the  peasants  of  that  village.     The 
while  we  were    listening  to   their  complaints,  they  kissed  our 
hands,  and  with  prostrations  to  the  ground,  rendered  more  af- 
fecting  by  the    inflamed    state    of   the    eyes    almost    universal 
amongst  them,  and  which  the  new  traveller  might  venially  im- 
agine to  have  been  the   immediate    effect   of  weeping   and  an- 
guish,  they  all   implored   English   succour.     Their   shrieks  at 
the  assault  of  the  wild  Arabs  seemed  to  implore  the  same  still 
more  forcibly,  while   it  testified  what    multiplied  reasons  they 
had  to   implore  it.     I  confess,  I  felt  an   almost  insurmountable 
impulse  to  bring  our  little  party  to  their  relief,  and  might  per- 
haps have  done  a  rash  act,  had    it  not  been   for  the  calm  and 


220 

just  observation  of  Captain  V 's  that   "  these  were  common 

occurrences,  and  that  any  relief  which  we  could  afford,  would 
not  merely  be  only  tem])orary,  but  would  exasperate  the  plun- 
derers to  still  more  atrocious  outrages  after  our  departure." 

On  the  morning  of  the  seventh  we  landed  near  a  village. 
At  our  approach  the  villagers  fled  :  signals  of  friendship  brought 
some  of  them  to  us.  When  they  were  told  that  we  were  En- 
glishmen, they  flocked  around  us  with  demonstrations  of  joy, 
off"ered  their  services,  and  raised  loud  ejaculations  for  our  esta- 
blishment in  the  country.  Here  we  could  not  procure  a  pint 
of  milk  for  our  coff"ee.  The  inhabitants  had  been  plundered 
and  chased  from  their  habitations  by  the  Albanians  and  Desert 
Arabs,  and  it  was  but  the  preceding  day,  they  had  returned  to 
their  naked  cottages. 

Grand  Cairo  diff"ers  from  the  places  already  passed,  only  as 
the  presence  of  the  tyrant  stamps  silence  on  the  lips  of  misery 
with  the  seal  of  terror.  Wretchedness  here  assumes  the  form 
of  melancholy  ;  but  the  few  whispers  that  are  hazarded,  con- 
vey the  same  feelings  and  the  same  wishes.  And  wherein 
does  this  misery  and  consequent  spirit  of  revolution  consist .'' 
Not  in  any  form  of  government  but  in  a  formless  despotism, 
an  anarchy  indeed  !  for  it  amounts  literally  to  an  annihilation  of 
every  thing  that  can  merit  the  name  of  government  or  justify 
the  use  of  the  word  even  in  the  laxest  sense.  Egypt  is  under 
the  most  frightful  despotism,  yet  has  no  master  !  The  Turkish 
soldiery,  restrained  by  no  discipline,  seize  every  thing  by  vio- 
lence, not  only  all  that  their  necessities  dictate,  but  whatever 
their  caprices  suggest.  The  Mamelukes,  who  dispute  with 
these  the  right  of  domination,  procure  themselves  subsistence 
by  means  as  lawless  though  less  inssupportably  oppressive. 
And  the  wild  Arabs  availing  themselves  of  the  occasion,  plun- 
der the  defenceless  wherever  they  find  plunder.  To  finish  the 
whole,  the  talons  of  the  Viceroy  fix  on  every  thing  which  can 
be  changed  into  currency,  in  order  to  find  the  means  of  sup- 
porting an  ungoverned,  disorganized  banditti  of  foreign  troops, 
who  receive  the  harvest  of  his  oppression,  desert  and  betray 
him.  Of  all  this  rapine,  robbery,  and  extortion,  the  wretched 
cultivators  of  the  soil  are  the  perpetual  victims. — A  spirit  of 
revolution  is  the  natural  consequence. 

The  reason  the  inhabitants  of  this  country  give  for  prefer- 
ring the  English  to  the  French,  whether  true  or  false,  is  as  na- 


221 

tural  as  it  is  simple,  and  as  influential  as  natural.  "  The  En- 
glish," say  they,  "pay  for  every  thing — the  French  pay  noth- 
ing, and  take  every  thing."  They  do  not  like  this  kind  of  de- 
liverers.  

Well,  thought  I,  after  the  perusal  of  this  Letter,  the  Slave 
Trade  (which  had  not  then  been  abolished)  is  a  dreadful  crime, 
an  English  iniquity  !  and  to  sanction  its  continuance  under  full 
conviction  and  parliamentary  confession  of  its  injustice  and  in- 
humanity, is,  if  possible,  still  blacker  guilt.  Would  that  our 
discontents  were  for  a  while  confined  to  our  moral  wants ! 
whatever  may  be  the  defects  of  our  Constitution,  we  have  at 
least  an  effective  Government,  and  that  too  composed  of  men 
who  were  born  with  us  and  are  to  die  among  us.  We  are  at 
least  preserved  from  the  incursions  of  foreign  enemies  ;  the  in- 
tercommunion of  interests  precludes  a  civil  war,  and  the  volun- 
teer spirit  of  the  nation  equally  with  its  laws,  give  to  the  dark- 
est lanes  of  our  crowded  metropolis  that  quiet  and  security 
which  the  remotest  villager  at  the  cataracts  of  the  Nile  prays 
for  in  vain,  in  his  mud  hovel ! 

JVot  yet  enslaved  nor  wholly  vile, 

O  Albion,  O  my  mother  isle ! 

Thy  vallies  fair,  as  Eden's  bowers, 

Glitter  green  with  sunny  showers ; 

Thy  grassy  uplands'  gentle  swells 

Echo  to  the  bleat  of  flocks  ; 

(Those  grassy  hills,  those  ghtt'ring  dells 

Proudly  ramparted  with  rocks) 

And  ocean  mid  his  uproar  wild 

Speaks  safety  to  his  island-child. 

Hence  for  many  a  fearless  age 

Has  social  quiet  lov'd  thy  shore  ; 

Nor  ever  sworded  warrior's  rage 

Or  sack'd  thy  towers  or  stain'd  thy  fields  with  gore. 

Coleridge's  Poems. 


II.  Anecdote  of  Buonaparte. 

Buonaparte,  during  his  short  stay  at  Malta,  called  out  the 
Maltese  regiments  raised  by  the  Knights,  amounting  to  fifteen 
hundred  of  the  stoutest  young  men  of  the  islands.  As  they 
were  drawn  up  on  the  parade,  he  informed  them,  in  a  bombastic 
harangue,  that  he  had  restored  them  to  liberty  ;  but  in  proof  that 


222 

his  attachment  to  them  was  not  bounded  by  this  benefaction, 
he  would  now  give  them  an  opportunity  of  adding  glory  to  free- 
dom— and  concluding  by  asking  who  of  them  would  march  for- 
ward to  be  his  fellow-soldier  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  and  con- 
tribute a  flower  of  Maltese  heroism  to  the  immortal  wreaths  of 
fame,  with  which  he  meant  to  crown  the  pyramids  of  Egypt! 
Not  a  man  stirred  :  all  gave  a  silent  refusal.  They  were  in- 
stantly surrounded  by  a  regiment  of  French  soldiers,  marched 
to  the  Marino,  forced  on  board  the  transports,  and  threatened 
with  death  if  any  one  of  them  attempted  his  escape  or  should 
be  discovered  in  any  part  of  the  islands  of  Malta  or  Goza.  At 
Alexandria  they  were  always  put  in  front,  both  to  save  the 
French  soldiery,  and  to  prevent  their  running  aw  ay:  and  of  the 
whole  number,  fifty  only  survived  to  revisit  their  native  coun- 
try. From  one  of  these  survivors  I  first  learned  this  lact  which 
was  afterwards  confirmed  to  me  by  several  of  his  remaining 
comrades,  as  well  as  by  the  most  respectable  inhabitants  of  Vi- 
lette. 

This  anecdote  recalled  to  my  mind  an  accidental  conversation 
with  an  old  countryman  in  a  central  district  of  Germany.  I 
purposely  omit  names  because  the  day  of  retribution  has  come 
and  gone  by.  1  was  looking  at  a  strong  fortress  in  the  distance, 
which  formed  a  highly  interesting  object  in  a  rich  and  varie4 
landscape,  and  asked  the  old  man,  who  had  stopped  to  gaze  at 
me,  its  name,  &c.  adding — how  beautiful  it  looks  !  It  may  be 
well  enough  to  look  at,  answered  he,  but  God  keep  all  chris- 
tians from  being  taken  thither !  lie  then  proceeded  to  gratify 
the  curiosity  which  he  had  thus  excited,  by  informing  me  that 

the  Baron had  been  taken  out  of  his  bed  at  midnight  and 

carried  to  that  fortress — that  he  was  not  heard  of  for  nearly  two 
years,  when  a  soldier  who  had  fled  over  the  boundaries  sent  in- 
formation to  his  family  of  the  place  and  mode  of  his  imprison- 
ment. As  I  have  no  design  to  work  on  the  feelings  of  my 
readers,  I  pass  over  the  shocking  detail :  had  not  the  language 
and  countenance  of  my  informant  precluded  such  a  suspicion,  I 
might  have  supposed  that  he  had  been  repeating  some  tale  of 
horror  from  a  Romance  of  the  dark  ages.  What  was  his  crime  ! 
I  asked — The  report  is,  said  the  old   man,  that  in  his  capacity 

as  minister  he  had  remonstrated  with  the concerning  the 

extravagance  of  his  mistress,  an  outlandish  countess ;  and  that 


223 

she  in  revenge  persuaded  the  sovereign,  that  it  was  the  Baron 
who  had  communicated  to  a  professor  at  Gottingen  the  particu- 
lars of  the  infamous  sale  of  some  thousand  of  his  subjects  as 
soldiers.  On  the  same  day  I  discovered  in  the  landlord  of  a 
small  public  house  one  of  the  men  who  had  been  thus  sold.  He 
seemed  highly  delighted  in  entertaining  an  English  gentleman, 
and  in  once  more  talking  English  after  a  lapse  of  so  many 
years.  He  w-as  far  from  regretting  this  incident  in  his  life,  but 
his  account  of  the  manner  in  which  they  were  forced  away,  ac- 
corded in  so  many  particulars  with  Schiller's  empassioned  de- 
scription of  the  same,  or  a  similar  scene,  in  his  Tragedy  of 
Cabal  and  Love,  as  to  leave  a  perfect  conviction  on  my  mind, 
that  the  dram.atic  pathos  of  that  description  was  not  greater  than 
its  historic  fidelity. 

As  I  was  thus  reflecting,  I  glanced  my  eye  on  the  leading 
paragraph  of  a  London  newspaper,  containing  much  angry  de- 
clamation, and  some  bitter  truths,  respecting  our  military  ar- 
rangements. It  w'ere  in  vain,  thought  I,  to  deny  that  the  in- 
fluence of  parliamentary  interest,  which  prevents  the  immense 
patronage  of  the  crown  from  becoming  a  despotic  power,  is 
not  the  most  likely  to  secure  the  ablest  commanders  or  the  fit- 
test persons  for  the  management  of  our  foreign  empire.  How- 
ever, thank  heaven  !  if  we  fight,  we  fight  for  our  own  king  and 
country  :  and  grievances  which  may  be  publicly  complained  of, 
there  is  some  chance  of  seeing  remedied. 

HL  A  celebrated  Professor  in  a  German  University,  shewed 
me  a  very  pleasing  print,  entitled,  "  Toleration." — A  Catholic 
Priest,  a  Lutheran  Divine,  a  Calvinist  Minister,  a  Quaker,  a 
Jew,  and  a  Philosopher,  were  represented  sitting  round  the 
same  Table,  over  which  a  winged  figure  hovered  in  the  atti- 
tude of  protection.  For  this  harmless  print,  said  my  friend, 
the  artist  was  imprisoned,  and  having  attempted  to  escape,  was 
sentenced  to  draw  the  boats  on  the  banks  of  the  Danube,  with 
robbers  and  murderers  :  and  there  died  in  less  than  two  months, 
from  exhaustion  and  exposure.  In  your  happy  country,  sir,  this 
print  would  be  considered  as  a  pleasing  scene  from  real  life  : 
for  in  every  great  town  throughout  your  empire  you  may  meet 
with  the  original.  Yes,  I  replied,  as  far  as  the  the  negative 
ends  of  Government  are  concerned  we  have  no  reason  to  com- 
plain.    Our  Government  protects  us  from  foreign  enemies,  and 


224 

our  Laws  secure  our  lives,  our  personal  freedom,  our  property, 
reputation,  and  religious  rights,  from  domestic  attacks.  Our 
taxes,  indeed  are  enormous — Oh  !  talk  not  of  taxes,  said  my 
friend,  till  you  have  resided  in  a  country  where  the  boor  dis- 
poses of  his  produce  to  strangers  for  a  foreign  mart,  not  to  bring 
back  to  his  family  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  foreign  ma- 
nufactures, but  to  procure  that  coin  which  his  lord  is  to  squan- 
der away  in  a  distant  land.  Neither  can  I  with  patience  hear 
it  said,  that  your  laws  act  only  to  the  negative  ends  of  govern- 
ment. They  have  a  manifold  positive  influence,  and  their  in- 
corrupt administration  gives  a  colour  to  all  your  modes  of  think- 
ing, and  is  one  of  the  chief  causes  of  your  superior  morality  in 
private  as  well  as  public  life.* 

My  limits  compel  me  to  strike  out  the  different  incidents 
which  I  had  written  as  a  commentary  on  the  three  former  of  the 
positive  ends  of  Government.  To  the  moral  feelings  of  my 
Readers  they  might  have  been  serviceable ;  but  for  their  un- 
derstandings they  are  superfluous.  It  is  surely  impossible  to 
peruse  them,  and  not  admit  that  all  three  are  realized  under 
our  Government  to  a  degree  unexampled  in  any  other  old  and 
long  peopled  country.  The  defects  of  our  Constitution  (in 
which  word  I  include  the  Laws  and  Customs  of  the  Land  as 
well  as  its  scheme  of  Legislative  and  Executive  Power)  must 
exist,  therefore,  in  the  fourth,  namely,  the  production  of  the 
highest  average  of  general  information,  of  general  moral  and 
religious  principles,  and  the  excitements  and  opportunities 
which  it  affords  to  paramount    genius   and   heroic   power   in   a 


*"The  administration  of  justice  throughout  the  Continent  is  partial,  venal 
and  infamous.  I  have,  in  conversation  witli  many  sensible  men,  met  with 
something  of  content  with  their  governments  in  all  other  respects  than  this ; 
but  upon  the  question  of  expecting  justice  to  be  really  and  fairly  administer- 
ed eveiy  one  confessed  there  was  no  such  thing  to  be  looked  for.  The  con- 
duct of  the  judges  is  profligate  and  atrocious.  Upon  almost  every  cause  that 
comes  before  them  interest  is  openly  made  with  the  judges;  and  woe  betide 
tlie  man,  who,  with  a  cause  to  supjrort  had  no  means  of  conciliating  favour, 
either  by  the  beauty  of  a  handsome  wife,  or  by  other  methods." — This  quo- 
tation is  confined  in  the  original  to  France  under  the  monarchy  ;  I  have  ex- 
tended the  application,  and  adopted  the  words  as  comprizing  the  result  of  my 
own  experience:  and  I  take  this  opportunity  of  declaring,  that  the  mosi  im- 
portant parts  of  Mr,  Leckie's  statement  concerning  Sicily  I  myself  know  to  be 
accurate,  and  am  authorized  by  what  I  myself  saw  there,  to  rely  on  the  whole 
as  a  fair  and  unexaggerated  representation. 


225 

sufficient  number  of  its  citizens.  These  are  points  in  which 
it  would  be  immorality  to  rest  content  with  the  presumption, 
however  well  founded,  that  we  are  better  than  others,  if  we 
are  not  what  we  ought  to  be  ourselves,  and  not  using  the  means 
of  improvement.  The  first  question  then  is,  what  is  the  fact  ? 
The  second,  supposing  a  defect  or  deficiency  in  one  or  all  of 
these  points,  and  that  to  a  degree  which  may  affect  our  power 
and  prosperity,  if  not  our  aboslute  safety,  are  the  plans  of  Leg- 
islative Reform  that  have  hitherto  been  proposed  fit  or  likely 
to  remove  such  defect,  and  supply  such  deficiency  ?  The 
third  and  last  question  is — Should  there  appear  reason  to  deny 
or  doubt  this,  are  there  then  any  other  means,  and  what  are 
they  ? — Of  these  points  in  the  concluding  Essay  of  this  Sec- 
tion. 

A  French  gentleman  in  the  reign  of  Lewis  the  14th,  was 
comparing  the  French  and  English  writers  with  all  the  boast- 
fulness  of  national  prepossession.  Sir!  (replied  an  Englishman 
better  versed  in  the  principles  of  Freedom  than  the  canons  of 
criticism)  there  are  but  two  subjects  worthy  the  human  intel- 
lect: Politics  and  Religioiv,  our  state  here  and  our  state 
hereafter ;  and  on  neither  of  these  dare  you  write.  Long  may 
the  envied  privilege  be  preserved  to  my  countrymen  of  wri- 
ting and  talking  concerning  both  !  Nevertheless,  it  behoves 
us  all  to  consider,  that  to  write  or  talk  concerning  any  suject, 
without  having  previously  taken  the  pains  to  understand  it,  is  a 
breach  of  duty  which  we  owe  to  ourselves,  though  it  may  be 
no  offence  against  the  laws  of  the  land.  The  privilege  of 
talking  and  even  publishing  nonsense  is  necessary  in  a  free 
state  ;    but  the  more  sparingly  we  make  use  of  it  the  better. 


29 


ESSAY     VI. 


Then  we  may  thank  ourselves, 
Who  spell-bound  by  the  magic  name  of  Peace 
Dream  golden  dreams.     Go,  warlike  Biitain,  go, 
For  the  grey  olive-branch  change  thy  green  laurels : 
Hang  up  thy  rusty  helmet,  that  the  bee 
May  have  a  hive,  or  spider  find  a  loom ! 
Instead  of  doubling  drum  and  thrilling  fife 
Be  lull'd  in  lady's  lap  with  amorous  flutes. 
But  for  Napoleon,  know,  he'll  scorn  tliis  calm  : 
The  ruddy  jilanet  at  his  birth  bore  swaj^. 
Sanguine,  a  dust  his  humor,  and  wild  fire 
His  ruling  element.     Rage,  revenge,  and  cunning 
Make  up  the  tenijjer  of  this  captain's  valor. 

Adapted  from  an  old  Play. 


Little  prospective  wisdom  can  that  man  obtain,  who  hurrying 
onward  with  the  current,  or  rather  torrent,  of  events,  feels  no 
interest  in  their  importance,  except  as  far  as  his  curiosity  is  ex- 
cited by  their  novelty  ;  and  to  whom  all  reflection  and  retro- 
spect are  wearisome.  If  ever  there  were  a  time  when  the 
formation  of  just  public  principles  becomes  a  duty  of  private 
morality  ;  when  the  principles  of  morality  in  general  ought  to 
be  made  to  bear  on  our  public  suffrages,  and  to  affect  every  great 
national  determination  ;  when,  in  short,  his  country  should 
have  a  place  by  every  Englishman's  fire-side  ;  and  when  the 
feelings  and  truths  which  give  dignity  to  the  fire-side  and  tran- 
quillity to  the  death-bed,  ought  to  be  present  and  influencive 
in  the  cabinet  and  in  the  senate — that  time  is  now  with  us.  As 
an  introduction  to,  and  at  the  same  time  as  a  commentary  on,  the 
subject  of  international  law,  I  have  taken  a  review  of  the  cir- 
eumstances  that  led  to  the  Treaty  of  Amiens,  and  the  recom- 


227 

mencement  of  the  war,  more  especially  with  regard  to  the  oc- 
cupation of  Malta. 

In  a  rich  commercial  state,  a  war  seldom  fails  to  become  un- 
popular by  length  of  continuance.  The  first,  or  revolution  war 
which  toivards  its  close,  had  become  just  and  necessary,  per- 
haps beyond  any  former  example,  had  yet  causes  of  unpopular- 
ity peculiar  to  itself.  Exhaustion  is  the  natural  consequence  of 
excessive  stimulation,  in  the  feelings  of  nations  equally  as  in 
those  of  individuals.  Wearied  out  by  overwhelming  novelties  ; 
stunned,  as  it  were,  by  a  series  of  strange  explosions  ;  sick  too 
of  hope  long  delayed  ;  and  uncertain  as  to  the  real  object  and 
motive  of  the  war,  from  the  rapid  change  and  general  failure 
of  its  ostensible  objects  and  motives  ;  the  public  mind  for  many 
months  preceding  the  signing  of  the  preliminaries,  had  lost  all 
its  tone  and  elasticity.  The  consciousness  of  mutual  errors  and 
mutual  disappointments,  disposed  the  great  majority  of  all  par- 
ties to  a  spirit  of  diflidence  and  toleration,  which,  amiable  as  it 
may  be  in  individuals,  yet  in  a  nation,  and  above  all  in  an  opu- 
lent and  luxurious  nation,  iy  c-.lways  too  nearly  akin  to  apathy 
and  selfish  indulgence.  An  unmanly  impatience  for  peace  be- 
came only  not  universal.  After  as  long  a  resistance  as  the  na- 
ture of  our  Constitution  and  national  character  permitted  or  even 
endured,  the  government  applied  at  length  the  only  remedy 
adequate  to  the  greatness  of  the  evil,  a  remdey  which  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  evil  justified,  and  which  nothing  but  an  evil  of 
that  magnitude  could  justify.  At  a  high  price  they  purchased 
for  us  the  name  of  peace,  at  a  time  when  the  views  of  France 
became  daily  more  and  more  incompatible  with  our  vital  inte- 
rests. Considering  the  peace  as  a  mere  truce  of  experiment, 
wise  and  temperate  men  regarded  with  complacency  the  Trea- 
ty of  Amiens,  for  the  very  reasons  that  would  have  ensured 
the  condemnation  of  any  other  treaty  under  any  other  circum- 
stances. Its  palpable  deficiencies  were  its  antidote  :  or  rather 
they  formed  its  very  essence,  and  declared  at  first  sight,  what 
alone  it  was,  or  was  meant  to  be.  Any  attempt  at  that  time 
and  in  this  Treaty  to  have  secured  Italy,  Holland,  and  the  Ger- 
man Empire,  would  have  been  in  the  literal  sense  of  the  word, 
preposterous.  The  Nation  would  have  withdrawn  all  faith  in 
the  pacific  intentions  of  the  ministers,  if  the  negociation  had 
been  broken  off  on  a  plea  of  this  kind  :  for  it  had  taken  for 
granted   the    extreme   desirableness,   nay,  the    necessity  of   a 


228 

peace,  and,  this  once  admitted,  there  would,  no  doubt,  have 
been  an  absurdity  in  continuing  the  war  for  objects  which  the 
war  furnished  no  means  of  realizing.  If  the  First  Consul  had 
entered  into  stipuhitions  with  us  respecting  the  Continent  they 
would  have  been  observed  only  as  long  as  his  interests  from  oth- 
er causes  uiiglit  have  dictated  ;  they  would  have  been  signed 
with  as  much  sincerity  and  observed  with  as  much  good  faith 
as  the  article  actually  inserted  in  the  Treaty  of  Amiens,  re- 
specting the  integrity  of  the  Turkish  empire.  This  article  in- 
deed was  wisely  insisted  on  by  us,  because  it  affected  both  our 
national  honor,  and  the  interests  of  our  Indian  empire  immedi- 
ately ;  and  still  more,  perhaps,  because  this  of  all  others  was 
the  most  likely  to  furnish  an  early  proof  of  tlie  First  Consul's 
real  dispositions.  But  deeply  interested  in  the  fate  of  the  Con- 
tinent, as  we  are  thought  to  be,  it  would  nevertheless  have 
been  most  idle  to  have  abandoned  a  peace,  supposing  it  at  all 
desirable,  on  the  ground  that  the  French  government  had  re- 
fused that  Avhich  would  have  been  of  no  value  had  it  been 
granted. 

Indeed  there  results  one  serious  disadvantage  from  insisting 
on  the  rights  and  interests  of  Austria,  the  Empire,  Switzerland, 
&c.  in  a  treaty  between  England  and  France  :  and,  as  it  should 
seem,  no  advantage  to  counterbalance  it.     Foiso,  any  attack  on 
those  rights  instantly  pledges  our  character  and  national  dignity 
to  commence  a  war,  however  inexpedient  it  might  happen  to  be, 
and  however  hopeless  :  while  if  a  war  were  expedient  any  atttack 
on   these  countries  by  France   furnishes  a  justifiable  cause  of 
war  in  its  essential   nature,  and   independently   of  all  positive 
treaty.     Seen  in  this  light,  the  defects  of  the  treaty  of  Amiens 
become  its   real  merits.     If  the   government   of  France   made 
peace  in  the  spirit  of  peace,  then  a  friendly  intercourse  and  the 
humanizing  influences  of  commerce   and   reciprocal  liospitality 
would  gradually  bring  about  in  both   countries  the  dispositions 
necessary  for  the  calm  discussion  and   sincere    conclusion  of  a 
genuine,  efficient,  and   comprehensive  treaty.     If  the  contrary 
proved  the  fact,  the    Treaty  of  Amiens  contained  in  itself  the 
principles  of  its   own  dissolution.     It  was  what  it  ought  to  be. 
If  the  First  Consul  had  both  meant  and  dealt  fairly   by  us,  the 
treaty  would  have  led  to  a  true  settlement  :  but  he  acting  as  all 
prudent  men  expected  that  he  would   act,  it  supplied  just  rea- 
sons for  the  commencement  of  war — and  at  its  decease  left  us, 
as  a  legacy,  blessings  that  assuredly  far  outweighed  our  losses 


229 

by  the  peace.  It  left  us  popular  entlmsiasnij  national  unani' 
mity,  and  simplicity  of  object :  and  removed  one  inconvenience 
which  cleaved  to  the  last  war,  by  attaching  to  the  right  objects, 
and  enlisting  under  their  proper  banners,  the  scorn  and  hatred 
of  slavery,  the  passion  for  freedom,  all  the  high  thoughts  and 
high  feelings  that  connect  us  with  the  honored  names  of  past 
ages  ;  and  inspire  sentiments  and  language,  to  which  our  Hamp- 
dens,  Sidneys,  and  Russels,  might  listen  without  jealousy. 

The  late  Peace  then  was  negociated  by  the  Government,  ra- 
tified by  the  Legislature,  and  received  by  the  nation,  as  an  ex- 
periment: as  the  only  means  of  exhibiting  such  proof  as  would 
be  satisfactory  to  the  people  in  their  then  temper;  whether 
Buonaparte  devoting  his  ambition  and  activity  to  the  re-esta- 
blishment of  trade,  colonial  tranquillity,  and  social  morals,  in 
France,  would  abstain  from  insulting,  alarming  and  endanger- 
ing the  British  empire.  And  these  thanks  at  least  were  due 
to  the  First  Consul,  that  he  did  not  long  delay  the  proof. 
With  more  than  papal  insolence  he  issued  edicts  of  anathema 
against  us,  and  excommunicated  us  from  all  interferrence  in 
the  aifairs  of  the  Continent.  He  insulted  us  still  more  inde- 
cently by  pertinacious  demands  respecting  our  constitutional 
Laws  and  Rights  of  Hospitality ;  by  the  official  publication  of 
Sebastiani's  Report ;  and  by  a  direct  personal  outrage  offered 
in  the  presence  of  all  the  foreign  ministers  to  the  king,  in  the 
person  of  his  ambassador.  He  both  insulted  and  alarmed  us 
by  a  display  of  the  most  perfidious  ambition  in  the  subversion 
of  the  independence  of  Switzerland,  in  the  avowal  of  designs 
against  Egypt,  Syria,  and  the  Greek  Islands,  and  in  the  mission 
of  military  spies  to  Great  Britain  itself.  And  by  forcibly 
maintaining  a  French  army  in  Holland,  he  at  once  insulted, 
alarmed,  and  endangered  us.  What  can  render  a  war  just 
(pre-supposing  its  expedience)  if  insult,  repeated  alarm,  and 
danger  do  not  ?  And  how  can  it  be  expedient  lor  a  rich,  uni- 
ted, and  powerful  Island-empire  to  remain  in  nominal  peace 
and  unresenting  passiveness  with  an  insolent  neighbor,  who 
has  proved  that  to  wage  against  it  an  unmitigated  war  of  insult, 
alarm,  and  endangerment  is  both  his  temper  and  his  system? 

Many  attempts  were  made  by  Mr,  Fox  to  explain  away  the 
force  of  the  greater  number  of  the  facts  here  enumerated  :  but 
the  great  fact,  for  which  alone  they  ha>'e  either  force  or  mean- 
ing, the  great  ultimate  fact,  that  Great  Britain  had  been  insult- 
ed, alarmed,  and  endangered   by  France,  Mr.  Fox  himself  ex- 


2S0 

pressly  admitted.  But  the  opposers  of  the  present  war  con- 
centre the  strength  of  their  cause  in  the  following  brief  argu- 
ment. Supposing,  say  they,  the  grievances  set  forth  in  our 
manifesto  to  be  as  notorious  as  they  are  asserted  to  be,  yet 
more  notorious  they  cannot  be  than  that  other  fact  which  utter- 
ly annuls  them  as  reasons  for  a  war — the  fact,  that  ministers 
themselves  regard  them  only  as  the  pompous  garnish  of  the 
dish.  It  stands  on  record,  that  Buonaparte  might  have  purchas- 
ed our  silence  for  ever,  respecting  these  insults  and  injuries, 
by  a  mere  acquiescence  on  his  part  in  our  retention  of  Malta. 
The  whole  treaty  of  Amiens  is  little  more  than  a  perplexed 
bond  of  compromise  respecting  Malta.  On  Malta  we  rested 
the  peace  :  for  Malta  we  renewed  the  war.  So  say  the  oppos- 
ers of  the  present  war.  As  its  advocates  we  do  not  deny  the 
fact  as  stated  by  them  ;  but  we  hope  to  achieve  all,  and  more 
than  all  the  purposes  of  such  denial,  by  an  explanation  of  the 
fact.  The  difficulty  then  resolves  itself  into  two  questions  : 
first,  in  what  sense  of  the  words  can  we  be  said  to  have  gone 
to  war  for  Malta  alone  ?  Secondly,  wherein  does  the  impor- 
tance of  Malta  consist  ?  The  answer  to  the  second  will  be 
found  in  the  third  volume,  in  the  Life  of  the  Liberator  and 
Political  Father  of  the  Maltese  :  while  the  attempt  to  settle 
the  first  question,  so  at  the  same  time  to  elucidate  the  Law  or 
Nations  and  its  identity  with  the  Law  of  Conscience,  will  oc- 
cupy the  remainder  of  the  present  Essay. 

1.  In  what  sense  can  we  he  affirmed  to  have  renewed  the  ivar 
for  Malta  alone  ? 
If  we  had  known  or  could  reasonably  have  believed,  that  the 
views  of  France  were  and  would  continue  to  be  friendly  or 
negative  toward  Great  Britain,  neither  the  subversion  of  the 
independence  of  Switzerland,  nor  the  maintenance  of  a  French 
army  in  Holland,  would  have  furnished  any  prudent  ground  for 
war.  For  the  only  way  by  which  we  could  have  injured  France, 
namely,  the  destruction  of  her  commerce  and  navy,  would  in- 
crease her  means  of  continental  conquests,  by  concentrating  all 
the  resources  and  energies  of  the  French  empire  in  her  military 
powers  :  while  the  losses  and  miseries  which  the  French  peo- 
ple would  suffer  in  consequence,  and  their  magnitude,  compa- 
red with  any  advantages  that  might  accrue  to  them  from  the 
extension  of  the  name  France,  were  facts  which,  we  knew  by 
experience,  would  weigh  as  nothing  with  the  existing  Govern- 


231 

nient.  Its  attacks  on  the  independence  of  its  continental  neigh- 
bors become  motives  to  us  for  the  recommencement  of  hostility, 
only  as  far  as  they  give  proofs  of  a  hostile  intention  toward 
ourselves,  and  facilitate  the  realizing  of  such  intention.  If  any 
events  had  taken  place,  increasing  the  means  of  injuring  this 
country,  even  though  these  events  furnished  no  moral  ground 
of  complaint  against  France,  (such  for  instance,  might  be  the 
great  extension  of  her  population  and  revenue,  from  freedom 
and  a  wise  government)  much  more,  if  they  were  the  fruits  of 
iniquitous  ambition,  and  therefore  in  themselves  involved  the 
probability  of  an  hostile  intention  to  us — then,  I  say,  every 
after  occurrence  becomes  important,  and  both  a  just  and  expe- 
dient ground  of  war,  in  proportion,  not  to  the  importance  of 
the  thing  in  itself,  but  to  the  quantity  of  evident  proo/  afford- 
ed by  it  of  an  hostile  design  in  the  Government,  by  whose 
power  our  interests  are  endangered.  If  by  demanding  the  im- 
mediate evacuation  of  Malta,  when  he  had  himself  done  away 
the  security  of  its  actual  independence  (on  his  promise  of  pre- 
serving which  our  pacific  promises  rested  as  on  their  sole  found- 
ation) and  this  too,  after  he  had  openly  avowed  such  designs  on 
Egypt,  as  not  only  in  the  opinion  of  our  ministers,  but  in  his 
own  opinion,  made  it  of  the  greatest  importance  to  this  country, 
that  Malta  should  not  be  under  French  influence  ;  if  by  this 
conduct  the  First  Consul  exhibted  a  decisive  proof  of  his  inten- 
tion to  violate  our  rights  and  to  undermine  our  national  inte- 
rests ;  then  all  his  preceding  actions  on  the  Continent  became 
proofs  likewise  of  the  same  intention  ;  and  any  one*  of  these 


*An  huiiflred  cases  might  be  imagined  which  v.ould  place  this  assertion 
in  its  true  light.  Suppose,  for  instance,  a  country  according  to  the  laws  o' 
which  a  parent  might  not  disinherit  a  son  without  having  first  convicted  him 
of  some  one  of  suncliy  crimes  enumerated  in  a  specific  statute.  Caius,  by  a 
series  of  vicious  actions  has  so  nearly  convinced  his  father  of  his  utter 
worthlessness,  that  the  father  resolves  on  the  next  provocation  to  use  the  ve- 
ly  first  oi)portunity  of  legally  disinheriting  this  son.  The  provocation  occurs, 
and  in  itself  furnishes  this  op])oiHniity,  and  Caius  is  disinherited,  though  for 
an  action  much  less  glaring  and  intoleral»le  than  most  of  his  preceding  de- 
Jinquencics  had  been.  The  advocates  of  Caius  complain  that  he  should  be 
thus  punished  for  a  comparative  trifle,  so  many  worse  misdemeanors  having 
been  passed  over.  The  father  replies  :  "  This,  his  last  action,  is  not  the  cause 
of  the  disinheritance  ;  but  the  means  of  disinheriting  him.  I  punished  him 
hy  it  rather  than /or  it.  In  truth  it  was  not  for  any  of  his  actions  that  I  have  thui 


aggressions  involves  the  meaning  of  the  whole.  Which  of  them 
is  to  determine  as  to  war  must  be  decided  by  other  and  pru- 
dential considerations.  Had  the  First  Consul  acquiesced  in  our 
detention  of  Malta,  he  would  thereby  have  furnished  such  proof 
of  pacific  intentions,  as  would  have  led  to  further  hopes,  as 
would  have  lessened  our  alarm  from  his  former  acts  of  ambition, 
and  relatively  to  us  have  altered  in  some  degree  their  nature. 
It  should  never  be  forgotten,  that  a  Parliament  or  national 
Council  is  essentially  different  from  a  Court  of  Justice,  alike  in 
its  objects  and  its  duties.  In  the  latter,  the  Juror  lays  aside 
his  private  knowledge  and  his  private  connections,  and  judges 
exclusively  according  to  evidence  adduced  in  the  Court :  in 
the  former,  the  Senator  acts  upon  his  own  internal  convictions, 
and  oftentimes  upon  private  information,  which  it  would  be 
imprudent  or  criminal  to  disclose.  Though  his  ostensible  Reason 
ought  to  be  a  true  and  just  one,  it  is  by  no  means  necessary  that 
it  should  be  his  sole  or  even  his  chief  reason.  In  a  Court  of 
Justice,  the  Juror  attends  to  the  character  and  general  inten- 
tions of  the  accused  party,  exclusively,  as  adding  to  the  proba- 
bility of  his  having  or  not  having  committed  the  one  particular 
action  then  in  question.  The  Senator,  on  the  contrary,  when 
he  is  to  determine  on  the  conduct  of  a  foreign  power,  attends 
to  particular  actions,  chiefly  in  proof  of  character  and  existing 
intentions.  Now  there  were  many  and  very  powerful  Reasons 
why,  though  appealing  to  the  former  actions  of  Buonaparte,  as 
confirmations  of  his  hostile  spirit  and  alarming  ambition,  we 
should  nevertheless  make  Malta  the  direct  object  and  final  de- 
terminant of  the  war.  Had  we  gone  to  war  avowedly  for  the 
independence  of  Holland  and  Switzerland,  we  should  have  fur- 
nished Bounaparte  with  a  colourable  pretext  for  annexing  both 
countries   immediately   to   the    French  empire,*   which,  if  he 


punished  him,  but  for  his  vices;  that  is,  not  so  much  for  the  injuries  which  I 
have  suffered,  as  for  the  dispositions  which  these  actions  evinced ;  for  the  in- 
solent and  alarming  intentions  of  which  they  are  proofs.  Now  of  this  habitu- 
al temper,  of  these  dangerous  purposes,  his  last  action  is  as  true  and  complete 
a  manifestation  as  any  or  all  of  his  preceding  offiMices  ;  and  it  therefore  may 
and  must  be  taken  as  their  common  representative.^^  ' 

*  This  disquisition  was  written  in  the  year  1804,  in  Malta,  at  the  request 
of  Sir  Alex  mder  Ball,  [with  the  exception  of  the  latter  paragraphs,  which  I 
have  therefore  included  in  crotchet?.] 


283 

should  do  (as  if  his  power  continues  he  most  assuredly  will 
sooner  or  hitcr)  by  a  mere  act  of  violence,  and  undisguised  ty- 
ranny, there  will  follow  a  moral  weakening  of  his  power  in  the 
minds  of  men,  which  may  prove  of  incalculable  advantage  to 
the  independence  and  well-being  of  Europe;  but  which,  un- 
fortunately, for  this  very  reason,  that  it  is  not  to  be  calculated, 
is  too  often  disregarded  by  ordinary  Statesmen.  At  all  events, 
it  would  have  been  made  the  plea  for  banishing,  plundering, 
and  perhaps  murdering  numbers  of  virtuous  and  patriotic  indi- 
viduals, as  being  the  partizans  of  "  the  Enemy  of  the  Conti- 
nent.''^ Add  to  this,  that  we  should  have  appeared  to  have 
rushed  into  a  war  for  objects  which  by  war  we  could  not  hope 
to  realize  ;  we  should  have  exacerbated  the  misfortunes  of  the 
countries  of  which  we  had  elected  ourselves  the  champions ; 
and  the  war  would  have  appeared  a  mere  war  of  revenge  and 
reprisal,  a  circumstance  always  to  be  avoided  where  it  is  possi- 
ble. The  ablest  and  best  men  in  the  Batavian  Republic,  those 
who  felt  the  insults  of  France  most  acutely,  and  were  suffering 
from  her  oppressions  the  most  severely,  entreated  our  Govern- 
ment, through  their  minister,  that  it  would  not  make  the  state 
of  Holland  the  great  ostensible  reason  of  the  war.  The  Swiss 
patriots  too  believed,  that  we  could  do  nothing  to  assist  them  at 
that  time,  and  attributed  to  our  forbearance  the  comparatively 
timid  use  which  France  has  hitherto  made  of  her  absolute  pow- 
er over  that  country.  Besides  Austria,  whom  the  changes  on 
the  Continent  much  more  nearly  concerned  than  England,  ha- 
ving refused  all  co-operation  with  us,  there  is  reason  to  fear 
that  an  opinion  (destructive  of  the  one  great  blessing  purcha- 
sed by  the  peace,  our  national  unanimity)  would  have  takert 
root  in  the  popular  mind,  that  these  changes  were  mere  pretexts. 
Neither  should  we  forget,  that  the  last  war  had  left  a  dislike  in 
our  countrymen  to  continental  interference,  and  a  not  unplausi- 
ble  persuasion,  that  where  a  nation  has  not  sufficient  sensibility 
to  its  wrongs  to  commence  a  war  against  the  aggressor,  unbri- 
bed  and  ungoaded  by  Great  Britain,  a  war  begun  by  the  Go- 
vernment of  such  a  nation,  at  the  instance  of  our  Government, 
has  little  chance  of  other  than  a  disastrous  result,  considering 
the  character  and  revolutionary  resources  of  the  enemy.  What- 
ever may  be  the  strength  or  weakness  of  this  argument,  it  is 
however  certain,  that  there  was  a  strong  predilection  in  the 
British  people  for  a  cause  indisputably  and  peculiarly  British. 
30 


234 

And  this  feeling  is  not  altogether  ungrounded.  In  practical  po- 
litics and  the  great  expenditures  of  national  power,  we  must 
not  pretend  to  be  too  far-sighted :  otherwise  even  a  transient 
peace  would  be  impossible  among  the  European  nations.  To 
future  and  distant  evils  we  may  always  oppose  the  various  un- 
foreseen events  that  are  ripening  in  the  womb  of  the  future. 
Lastly,  it  is  chiefly  to  immediate  and  unequivocal  attacks  on 
our  own  interests  and  honour,  that  we  attach  the  notion  of 
Right  with  a  full  and  efficient  feeling.  Now,  though  we  may 
be  first  stimulated  to  action  by  probabilities  and  prospects  of 
advantage,  and  though  there  is  a  perverse  restlessness  in  human 
nature,  which  renders  almost  ail  wars  popular  at  their  com- 
mencement, yet  a  nation  always  needs  a  sense  of  positive  Right 
to  steady  its  spirit.  There  is  always  needed  some  one  reason, 
short,  simple,  and  independent  of  complicated  calculation  in  or- 
der to  give  a  sort  of  muscular  strength  to  the  public  mind, 
when  the  power  that  results  from  enthusiasm,  animal  spirits, 
and  the  charm  of  novelty,  has  evaporated. 

There  is  no  feeling  more  honourable  to  our  nature,  few  that 
strike  deeper  root  w^hen  our  nature  is  happily  circumstanced, 
than  the  jealousy  concerning  a  positive  right,  independent  of 
an  immediate  interest.  To  surrender,  in  our  national  chaiac- 
ter,  the  merest  trifle,  that  is  strictly  our  right,  the  merest  rock  on 
which  the  waves  will  scarcely  permit  the  seafowl  to  lay  its  eggs, 
at  the  demand  of  an  insolent  and  powerful  rival,  on  a  shop- 
keeper's calculation  of  loss  and  gain,  is  in  its  final,  and  assured- 
ly not  very  distant  consequences,  a  loss  of  every  thing — of  na- 
tional spirit,  of  national  independence,  and  with  these,  of  the 
very  wealth  for  which  the  low  calculation  was  made.  This  feel- 
ing in  individuals,  indeed,  and  in  private  life,  is  to  be  sacrific- 
ed to  religion.  Say  rather,  that  by  religion,  it  is  transmuted  into 
a  higher  virtue,  growing  on  an  higher  and  engrafted  branch,  yet 
nourished  from  the  same  root :  that  it  remains  in  its  essence 
the  same  spirit,  but 

Made  pure  by  Thought,  and  naturalized  m  Heaven ; 

and  he  who  cannot  perceive  the  moral  diff"erences  of  national 
and  individual  duties,  comprehends  neither  the  one  or  the 
other,  and  is  not  a  whit  the  better  Christian  for  being  a  bad 
patriot.  Considered  nationally,  it  is  as  if  the  captain  of  a  man 
of  war  should  strike  and  surrender  his  colours  under  the  pre- 


235 

tence,  that  it  would  be  folly  to  risk  the  lives  of  so  many  good 
Christian  sailors  for  the  sake  of  difew  yards  of  coarse  canvass  ! 
Of  such  reasoners  we  take  an  indignant  leave  in  the  words  of 
an  obscure  poet. 

Fear  never  wanted  arguments :  you  do 
Reason  yourselves  into  a  careful  bondage, 
Circumspect  only  to  your  Misery. 
I  could  urge  Freedom,  Charters,  Country,  Laws, 
Gods,  and  Religion,  and  such  precious  names — 
Nay,  what  you  value  higher,  Wealth !  But  that 
You  sue  for  bondage,  yielding  to  demands 
As  impious  as  they're  insolent,  and  have 
Only  this  sluggish  name — to  perish  full  ! 

Cartwright. 

•  And  here  we  find  it  necessary  to  animadvert  on  a  principle 
asserted  by  Lord  Minto,  (in  his  speech,  June  6th,  18U3,  and 
afterwards  published  at  full  length)  that  France  had  an  un- 
doubted right  to  insist  on  our  abandonment  of  Malta,  a  right 
not  given,  but  likewise  not  abrogated,  by  the  Treaty  of  Amiens. 
Surely  in  this  effort  of  candor,  his  Lordship  must  have  forgot- 
ten the  circumstances  on  which  he  exerted  it.  The  case  is  sim- 
ply thus  :  the  British  government  was  convinced,  and  the  French 
government  admitted  the  justice  of  the  conviction,  that  it  was 
of  the  utmost  importance  to  our  interests,  that  Malta  should  re- 
main uninfluenced  by  France.  The  French  government  binds 
itself  down  by  a  solemn  treaty,  that  it  will  use  its  best  endea- 
vors in  conjunction  with  us,  to  secure  this  independence.  This 
promise  was  no  act  of  liberality,  no  generous  free-gift  on  the 
part  of  France,  No  ]  we  purchased  it  at  a  high  price.  We  dis- 
banded our  forces,  we  dismissed  our  sailors,  and  we  gave  up 
the  best  part  of  the  fruits  of  our  naval  victories.  Can  it  there- 
fore with  a  shadow  of  plausibility  be  affirmed,  that  the  right  to 
insist  on  our  evacuation  of  the  island  was  unaltered  by  the 
Treaty  of  Amiens,  when  this  demand  is  strictly  tantamount  to 
our  surrender  of  all  the  advantages  which  we  had  bought  of 
France  at  so  high  a  price  ?  Tantamount  to  a  direct  breach  on 
her  part,  not  merely  of  a  solemn  treaty,  but  of  an  absolute  bar- 
gain ?  It  was  not  only  the  perfidy  of  unprincipled  ambition — the 
demand  was  the  fraudulent  trick  of  a  sharper.  For  what  did 
France  ?  She  sold  us  the  independence  of  Malta:  then  exerted 
her  power,  and  annihilated  the  very  possibility  of  that  indepen- 


236 

dence,  and  lastly,  demanded  of  us  that  we  should  leave  it  bound 
hand  and  foot  for  her  to  seize  without  trouble,  whenever  her 
ambitious  projects  led  her  to  regard  such  seizure  as  expedient. 
We  bound  ourselves  to  surrender  it  to  the  Knights  of  Malta — 
not  surely  to  Joseph,  Robert  or  Nicolas,  but  to  a  known  order, 
clothed  with  certain  powers,  and  capable  of  exerting  them  in 
consequence  of  certain  revenues.  We  found  no  such  order. 
The  men  indeed  and  the  name  we  found  :  and  even  so,  if  we 
had  purchased  Sardinia  of  its  sovereign  for  so  many  millions  of 
money,  which  through  our  national  credit,  and  from  the  equiva- 
lence of  our  national  paper  to  gold  and  silver,  he  had  agreed 
to  receive  in  bank  notes,  and  if  he  had  received  them — doubt- 
less, he  would  have  the  bank  notes,  even  though  immediately 
after  our  payment  of  them  we  had  for  this  very  purpose  forced 
the  Bank  Company  to  break.  But  would  he  have  received  the 
debt  due  to  him  ?  It  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  practical 
pun,  as  wicked  though  not  quite  so  ludricrous,  as  the  (in  all 
senses)  execrable  pun  of  Earl  Godwin,  who  requesting  bcisium 
(i.  e.  a  kiss)  from  the  archbishop,  thereupon  seized  on  the 
archbishop's  manor  of  Baseham. 

A  Treaty  is  a  writ  of  mutual  promise  between  two  independ- 
ent States,  and  the  Law  of  Promise  is  the  same  to  nations  as 
to  indivdiuals.  It  is  to  be  sacredly  performed  by  each  party  in 
that  sense  in  which  it  knew  and  permitted  the  other  party  to 
understand  it,  at  the  time  of  the  contract.  Any  thing  short  of 
this  is  criminal  deceit  in  individuals,  and  in  governments  impi- 
ous perfidy.  After  the  conduct  of  France  in  the  affair  of  the 
guarantees,  and  of  the  revenues  of  the  order,  we  had  the  same 
right  to  preserve  the  island  independent  of  France  by  a  British 
garrison,  as  a  lawful  creditor  has  to  the  household  goods  of  a 
fugitive  and  dishonest  debtor. 

One  other  assertion  of  his  Lordship's,  in  the  same  speech, 
bears  so  immediately  on  the  plan  of  The  Friend,  as  far  as  it 
proposed  to  investigate  the  princii^e  of  international,  no  less 
than  of  private  morality,  that  I  feel  myself  in  some  degree  un- 
der an  obligation  to  notice  it.  A  Treaty  (says  his  Lordship) 
ought  to  be  strictly  observed  by  a  nation  in  its  literal  sense, 
even  though  the  utter  ruin  of  that  nation  should  be  the  certain 
and  fore-known  consequence  of  that  observance.  Previous  to 
any  remarks  of  my  own  on  this  high  llight  of  diplomatic  virtue, 
we  will  hear  what  Harrington  has  said  on  this  subject.     "  A 


237 

man  may  devote  himself  to  death  or  destruction  to  save  a  na- 
tion ;  but  no  nation  will  devote  itself  to  death  or  destruction  to 
save  mankind.  Machiavel  is  decried  for  saying,  "that  no 
consideration  is  to  be  had  of  what  is  just  or  unjust,  of  what  is 
merciful  or  cruel,  of  what  is  honorable  or  ignominous,  in  case 
it  be  to  save  a  state  or  to  preserve  liberty  :'  which  as  to  the 
manner  of  expression  may  perhaps  be  crudely  spoken.  But  to 
immagine  that  a  nation  will  devote  itself  to  death  or  destruc- 
tion any  more  after  faith  given,  or  an  engagement  thereto  tend- 
ing, than  if  there  had  been  no  engagement  made  or  faith  giv- 
en, were  not  piety  but  folly." Crudely  spoken  indeed  !  and 

not  less  crudely  thought  :  nor  is  the  matter  much  mended  by 
the  commentator.  Yet  every  man,  who  is  at  all  acquainted 
with  the  world  and  its  past  history,  knows  that  the  fact  itself 
is  truly  stated  :  and  what  is  more  important  in  the  present  ar- 
gument, he  cannot  find  in  his  heart  a  full,  deep,  and  downright 
verdict,  that  it  should  be  otherwise.  The  consequences  of 
this  perplexity  in  the  moral  felings,  are  not  seldom  extensively 
injurious.  For  men  hearing  the  duties  which  would  be  bind- 
ing on  two  individuals  living  under  the  same  laws,  insisted  on 
as  equally  obligatory  on  two  independent  states,  in  extreme 
cases,  where  they  see  clearly  the  impracticability  of  realizing 
such  a  notion  ;  and  having  at  the  same  time  a  dim  half-con- 
sciousness, that  two  States  can  never  be  placed  exactly  on  the 
same  ground  as  two  individuals  ;  relieve  themselves  from  their 
perplexity  by  cutting  what  they  cannot  untie,  and  assert  that 
national  policy  cannot  in  all  cases  be  subordinated  to  the 
laws  of  morality  :  in  other  words,  that  a  government  may  act 
with  injustice,  and  yet  remain  blameless.  This  assertion  was 
hazarded  (I  record  it  with  unfeigned  regret)  by  a  Minister  of 
State,  on  the  affair  of  Copenhagen.  Tremendous  assertion  ! 
that  would  render  every  complaint,  which  we  make,  of  the 
abominations,  of  the  French  tyrant,  hypocrisy,  or  mere  incen- 
diary declamation  for  the  simple-headed  multitude  !  But,  thank 
heaven  !  it  is  as  unnecessary  and  unfounded,  as  it  is  tremend- 
ous. For  what  is  a  treaty  ?  a  voluntary  contract  between  two 
nations.  So  wg  will  state  ii  in  the  first  instance.  Now  it  is 
an  impossible  case,  that  any  nation  can  be  supposed  by  any  oth- 
er to  have  intended  its  own  absolute  destruction  in  a  treaty, 
which  its  interests  alone  could  have  prompted  it  to  make. 
The  verj>  thought  is  self-contradictory.     Not  only  Athens  (we 


238 

will  say  )  could  not  have  intended  this  to  have  been  under- 
stood in  any  specific  promise  make  to  Sparta ;  but  Sparta  could 
never  have  imagined  that  Athens  had  so  intended  it.  And 
Athens  itself  must  have  known,  that  had  she  even  affirmed  the 
contrary,  Sparta  could  not  have  believed — nay,  would  have 
been  under  a  moral  obligation  not  to  have  believed  her.  Were 
it  possible  to  suppose  such  a  case — for  instance,  such  a  treaty 
made  by  a  single  besieged  town,  under  an  independent  gov- 
ernment as  that  of  Numantium — it  becomes  no  longer  a  state, 
but  the  act  of  a  certain  number  of  individuals  voluntarily  sac- 
rificing themselves,  each  to  preserve  his  separate  honor.  For 
the  state  was  already  destroyed  by  the  circumstances  which 
alone  could  make  such  an  engagement  conceivable. — But  we 
have  said,  nations. — Applied  to  England  and  France,  relative- 
ly to  treaties,  this  is  but  a  form  of  speaking.  The  treaty  is  re- 
ally made  by  some  half  dozen,  or  perhaps  half  a  hundred  indi- 
viduals, possessing  the  government  of  these  countries.  Now 
it  is  a  universally  admitted  part  of  the  Law  of  Nations,  that  an 
engageiiient  entered  into  by  a  minister  with  a  foreign  power, 
when  it  was  known  to  this  power  that  the  minister  in  so  doing 
had  exceeded  and  contravened  his  instructions,  is  altogether 
nugatory.  And  is  it  to  be  supj)osed  for  a  moment,  that  a  whole 
nation,  consisting  of  perhaps  twenty  millions  of  human  souls, 
could  ever  have  invested  a  few  individuals — whom,  altogether 
for  the  promotion  of  its  welfare,  it  had  intrusted  with  its  gov- 
ernment— with  the  right  of  signing  away  its  existence  ? 


ESSAY     VII. 


Arnicas  reprehensiones  gratissime  accipiamiis,  oportet :  etiam  si  reprehendi  nori 
meruit  opinio  nostra,  vel  lutnc  propter  causam,  quod  rede  defendi  potest.  Si 
vera  iiifirmitas  vel  humana  vel  propria,  etiam  cum  veraciter  arguitur,  nan  potest 
non  aliquantulum  contristari,  melius  tumor  dolet  cum  curatur,  quam  dum  ei 
parcitur  et  non  sanatur.  Hoc  enim  est  quod  acute  vidit,  qui  dixit :  utiliores  esse 
haud  raro  inimicos  ohjurgantes,  quam  arnicas  objurgare  metuentes.  llli  enim 
dum  nxantur,  dicunt  aliquando  vera  quce  corngamus :  isti  aidem  minorem^ 
quam  oportet,  exhibent  justiticB  libertatem,  dum  amicitioi  timent  exasperare  did- 
cedinem. — x\ugdstinus  Hieronymo  :  Epist.  xciii.  Hierou  Opera.  Tom.  ii.  p» 
233. 

Translation — Censures  offered  in  friendliness,  we  ought  to  receive  Avitli  grati- 
tude :  yea,  tliough  our  opinions  did  not  merit  censure,  we  should  still  be 
thankful  for  the  attack  on  them,  were  it  only  that  it  gives  us  an  opportu- 
nity of  successfully  defending  the  same.  (For  never  doth  an  important  truth 
spread  its  roots  so  loide  or  clasp  the  soil  so  stubbornly,  as  when  it  has  braved  the 
winds  of  controversy.  There  is  a  stirring  and  a  far-heard  music  sent  forth  from 
the  tree  of  sound  knowledge,  when  its  branches  are  fighting  ivith  the  storm,  ivhich 
passing  onward  shrills  out  at  once  Trutli's  triumph  and  its  own  defeat.)  But  if 
the  infirmity  of  human  nature,  or  of  our  own  constitutional  temperament, 
cannot,  even  when  we  have  been  fairly  convicted  of  error,  but  suffer  some 
small  mortification,  yet  better  suffer  pain  from  its  extirpation,  than  from  the 
consequences  of  its  continuance,  and  of  the  false  tertderness  that  had  with- 
held the  remedy.  This  is  what  the  »oaiQ  ol^server  had  in  his  mind,  who 
said,  that  upbraiding  enemies  were  not  seldom  more  profitable  than  friends 
afraid  to  find  fault.  For  the  former  amidst  their  quarrelsome  invectives 
may  chance  on  some  home  truths,  which  we  may  amend  in  consequence  ; 
while  the  latter  from  an  over  delicate  ai)prehension  of  ruflhng  the  smooth 
surface  of  friendship  shrink  from  its  duties,  and  from  the  manly  freedom 
which  Truth  and  Justice  demand. 


Only  a  few  privileged  individuals  are  authorized  to  pass  into 
the  theatre  without  stopping  at  the  door-keeper's  box ;  but  ev- 
ery man  of  decent  appearance  may  put  down  the  play-price  there, 


240 

and  thenceforward  has  as  good  a  right  as  the  managers  them- 
selves not  only  to  see  and  hear,  as  far  as  his  place  in  the  house, 
and  his  own  ears  and  eyes  permit  him,  but  likewise  to  express 
audibly  his  approbation  or  disapprobation  of  what  may  be  go- 
ing forward  on  the  stage.  If  his  feelings  happen  to  be  in  uni- 
son with  those  of  the  audience  in  general,  he  may  without 
breach  of  decorum  persevere  in  his  notices  of  applause  or  dis- 
like, till  the  wish  of  the  house  is  complied  with.  If  he  finds 
himself  unsupported,  he  rests  contented  with  having  once  ex- 
erted his  common  right,  and  on  that  occasion  at  least  gives  no 
further  interruption  to  the  amusement  of  those  who  feel  differ- 
ently from  him.  So  it  is,  or  so  it  should  be,  in  Literature.  A 
few  extraordinary  minds  may  be  allowed  to  pass  a  mere  opin- 
ion :  though  in  point  of  fact  those,  Vv^ho  alone  are  entitled  to 
this  privilege,  are  ever  the  last  to  avail  themselves  of  it.  Add 
too,  that  even  the  mere  opinions  of  such  men  may  in  general 
be  regarded  either  as  promissory  notes,  or  as  receipts  referring 
to  a  former  paynient.  But  every  man's  opinion  has  a  right  to 
pass  into  the  common  auditory,  if  his  reason  for  the  opinion  is 
paid  down  at  the  same  time  :  for  arguments  are  the  sole  cur- 
rent coin  of  intellect.  The  degree  of  influence  to  which  the 
opinion  is  entitled,  should  be  proportioned  to  the  weight  and 
value  of  the  reasons  for  it ;  and  whether  these  are  shillings 
or  pounds  sterling,  the  man,  who  has  given  them,  remains 
blameless,  provided  he  contents  himself  with  the  place  to  which 
they  have  entitled  him,  and  does  not  attempt  by  the  strength  of 
lungs  to  counterbalance  its  disadvantages,  or  expect  to  exert  as 

•r  i''"*i"  ^11  influence  in  the  back  seats  of  the   upper  gallerv, 
as  11  he  iiaa  p..,^  .  1 1       &         j  "> 

,,   ,       r    j_       ,   ;i  gold  and  been  seated  in  the  stage  box. 
But  unfortunateh  °       ,,  ,  ,  ..c  ^*  ^  ^r 

I    ,  ,       ,    '  nnd  here  commence  ^^-o  p<.'iius  oi  ditier- 

ence  between  the  theatric  and  the  Literary  Public)  in  the  o-reat 
theatre  of  Literature  there  are  no  authorized  door-keepers- 
for  our  anonymous  critics  are  self-elected.  I  shall  not  feir  the 
charge  of  calumny  i^  J  add,  that  they  have  lost  all  credit  with 
wise  men,  by  unfair  dealing:  such  as  their  refusal  to  receive 
an  honest  man's  money,  (that  is,  his  argument)  because  they 
anticipate  and  dislike  his  o])inion,  while  others  of  suspicious 
character  and  the  most  unseemly  appearance,  are  suffered  to 
pass  without  payment,  or  by  virtue  of  orders  which  they  have 
themselves  distributed  to  known  partisans.  Sometimes  the 
lionest  s  man's  intellectual  coin  is  refused  under  pretence  that 


241 

it  is  light  or  counterfeit,  without  any  proof  given  either  by  the 
money  scales,  or  by  sounding  the  coin  in  dispute  together  with 
one  of  known  goodness.  We  may  carry  the  metaphor  still  far- 
ther. It  is  by  no  means  a  rare  case,  that  the  money  is  return- 
ed because  it  had  a  different  sound  from  that  of  a  counterfeit, 
the  brassy  blotches  on  which  seemed  to  blush  for  the  impudence 
of  the  silver  wash  in  which  they  were  inisled,  and  rendered 
the  mock  coin  a  lively  emblem  of  a  lie  self-detected.  Still 
oftener  does  the  rejection  take  place  by  a  mere  act  of  insolence, 
and  the  blank  assertion  that  the  candidate's  money  is  light  or 
bad,  is  justified  by  a  second  assertion,  that  he  is  a  fool  or  knave 
for  offering  it. 

The  second  point  of  difference  explains  the  preceding,  and 
accounts  both  for  the  want  of  established  door-keepers  in  the 
auditory  of  Literature,  and  for  the  practices  of  those,  who  un- 
der the  name  of  Reviewers  volunteer  this  office.  There  is 
no  royal  mintage  for  arguments,  no  ready  means  by  which  all 
men  alike,  who  possess  common  sense,  may  determine  their 
value  and  intrinsic  worth  at  the  first  sight  or  sound.  Certain 
forms  of  natural  Logic  indeed  there  are,  the  inobservance  of 
which  is  decisive  against  an  argument;  but  the  strictest  adhe- 
rence to  them  is  no  proof  of  its  actual  (though  an  indispensable 
condition  of  its  possible )  validity  ;  in  the  arguer's  own  con- 
science there  is,  no  doubt,  a  certain  value,  and  an  infallible  cri- 
terion of  it,  which  applies  to  all  arguments  equally  :  and  this 
is  the  sincere  conviction  of  the  mind  itself.  But  for  those  to 
whom  it  is  offered,  these  are  only  conjectural  marks  ;  yet  such 
as  will  seldom  mislead  any  man  of  plain  sense,  who  is  both 
honest  and  observant.  These  characteristics  the  Friend  at- 
tempted to  comprize  in  the  concluding  paragraph  of  the  Fourth 
Essay  of  the  Volume,  and  has  described  them  more  at  large  in 
the  Essays  that  follow,  "  On  the  communicating  of  Truth."  If 
the  honest  warmth,  wliich  results  from  the  strength  of  the  par- 
ticular conviction,  be  tempered  by  the  modesty  which  belongs 
to  the  sense  of  general  fallibility;  if  the  emotions,  which  ac- 
company all  vivid  perceptions,  are  preserved  distinct  from  the 
expression  of  personal  passions,  and  from  appeals  to  them  in  the 
heart  of  others  ;  if  the  Reasoner  asks  no  respect  for  the  opinion, 
as  his  opinion,  but  only  in  proportion  as  it  is  acknowledged  by 
that  Reason,  wliich  is  common  to  all  men  ;  and,  lastly,  if  he 
supports  an  opinion  on  no  subject  which  he  has  not  previously 


242 

examined,  and  furnishes  proof  both  that  he  possesses  the  means 
of  enquiry  by  his  education  or  the  nature  of  his  pursuits,  and 
that  he  has  endeavored  to  avail  himself  of  those  means ;  then, 
and  with  these  conditions,  every  human  Being  is  authorized  to 
make  public  the  grounds  of  any  opinion  which  he  holds,  and 
of  course  the  opinion  itself,  as  the  object  of  them.  Conse- 
quently, it  is  the  duty  of  all  men,  not  always  indeed  to  attend 
to  him,  but,  if  they  do,  to  attend  to  him  with  respect,  and  with 
a  sincere  as  well  as  apparent  toleration.  I  should  offend  against 
my  own  Laws,  if  I  disclosed  at  present  the  nature  of  my  con- 
victions concerning  the  degree,  in  which  this  virtue  of  tolera- 
tion is  possessed  and  practised  by  the  majority  of  my  contem- 
poraries and  countrymen.  But  if  the  contrary  temper  is  felt 
and  shewn  in  instances  where  all  the  conditions  have  been  ob- 
served, which  have  been  stated  at  full  in  the  preliminary  num- 
bers that  form  the  Introduction  of  this  Work,  and  the  chief  of 
•which  I  have  just  now  recapitulated;  1  have  no  hesitation  in 
declaring  that  whatever  the  opinion  may  be,  and  however  op- 
posite to  the  hearer's  or  reader's  previous  persuasions,  one  or 
other  or  all  of  the  following  defects  must  be  taken  for  granted. 
Either  the  intolerant  person  is  not  master  of  the  grounds  on 
which  his  own  faith  is  built:  which  therefore  neither  is  or  can 
be  his  own  faith,  though  it  may  very  easily  be  his  imagined 
interest,  and  his  habit  of  thought.  In  this  case  he  is  angry,  not 
at  the  opposition  to  Truth,  but  at  the  interruption  of  his  own 
indolence  and  intellectual  slumber,  or  possibly  at  the  apprehen- 
sion, that  his  temporal  advantages  are  threatened,  or  at  least  the 
ease  of  mind,  in  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  enjoy  them. 
Or,  secondly,  he  has  no  love  of  Truth  for  its  own  sake ;  no  re- 
verence for  the  divine  command  to  seek  eainestly  after  it,  which 
command,  if  it  had  not  been  so  often  and  solemnly  given  by 
Revelation,  is  yet  involved  and  expressed  in  the  gift  of  Reason 
and  in  the  dependence  of  all  our  virtues  on  its  developement. 
He  has  no  moral  and  religious  awe  for  freedom  of  thought, 
though  accompanied  both  by  sincerity  and  humility  ;  nor  for 
the  right  of  free  communication  which  is  ordained  by  God,  to- 
gether with  that  freedom,  if  it  be  true  that  God  has  ordained 
us  to  live  in  society,  and  has  made  the  progressive  improvement 
of  all  and  each  of  us  depend  on  the  reciprocal  aids,  which  di- 
rectly or  indirectly  each  supplies  to  all,  and  all  to  each.  But  if 
his  alarm  and  his  consequent  intolerance,  are  occasioned  by  his 


u^ 


243 


eternal  rather  than  temporal  interests,  and  if  as  is  most  com- 
monly the  case,  he  does  not  deceive  himself  on  this  point, 
gloomy  indeed,  and  erroneous  beyond  idolatry,  must  have  been 
his  notions  of  the  Supreme  Being !  For  surely  the  poor  Heathen 
who  represents  to  himself  the  divine  attributes  of  wisdom,  jus- 
tice, and  mercy,  under  multiplied  and  forbidden  symbols  in  the 
powers  of  Nature  or  the  souls  of  extraordinary  men,  practises 
a  superstition  which  (though  at  once  the  cause  and  effect  of 
blindness  and  sensuality)  is  less  incompatible  with  inward  pie- 
ty and  true  religious  feeling,  than  the  creed  of  that  man,  who 
in  the  spirit  of  his  practice,  though  not  in  direct  words,  loses 
sight  of  all  these  attributes,  and  substitutes  "  servile  and  thrall- 
like fear  instead  of  the  adoptive  and  cheerful  boldness,  which 
our  new  alliance  with  God  requires  of  us  as  Christians."*  Such 
fear-ridden  and  thence  angry  believers,  or  rather  acquiescents^ 
would  do  well  to  re-peruse  the  book  of  Job,  and  observe  the 
sentence  passed  by  the  all-just  on  the  friends  of  the  sufferer, 
who  had  hoped,  like  venal  advocates,  to  purchase  the  favor  of 
deity  by  uttering  truths  of  which  in  their  own  hearts  they  had 
neither  conviction  nor  comprehension.     The  Truth  from  the 

LIPS  DID    NOT    ATONE    FOR    THE    LIE    IN  THE    HEART,     wllilo   the 

rashness  of  agony  in  the  searching  and  bewildered  complainant, 
was  forgiven  in  consideration  of  his  sincerity  and  integrity 
in  not  disguising  the  true  dictates  of  his  Reason  and  Con- 
science, but  avowing  his  incapability  of  solving  a  problem  by 
his  Reason,  which  before  the  Christian  dispensation  the  Al- 
mighty was  pleased  to  solve  only  by  declaring  it  to  be  beyond 
the  limits  of  human  Reason.  Having  insensibly  passed  into  a 
higher  and  more  serious  style  than  I  had  first  intended,  I  will 
venture  to  appeal  to  these  self-obscurants,  whose  faith  dwells 
in  the  Land  of  the  Shadow  of  Darkness,  these  Papists  without 


*MiUo)i's  Reformation  in  England.  "  For  in  very  deed,  the  superstitious 
man  by  his  good  will  is  an  Atheist ;  but  being  scared  from  thence  by  the 
pangs  of  conscience,  shuffles  up  to  himself  such  a  God  and  such  a  Worship 
as  is  most  accordant  to  his  fear :  which  fear  of  his  as  also  his  hope,  being  fix- 
ed only  uj)on  the  flesh,  renders  likewise  the  whole  faculty  of  his  a})prehension 
carnal,  and  all  the  inward  acts  of  icorshij}  issuing  from  the  native  strength  of 
the  Soul,  nin  out  luvishlij  to  the  upper  skin,  and  there  harden  into  a  crust  of  for- 
mality. Hence  men  came  to  scan  the  Scriptures  by  the  letter,  ani  in  the  co- 
venant of  our  redemption  magnified  the  external  signs  more  than  the  quick- 
ening power  of  the  Spirit. 


244 

Pope,  and  Protestants  who  protest  only  against  all  protesting  ; 
and  will  appeal  to  them  in  words  which  yet  more  immediately 
concern  them  as  Christians,  in  the  hope  that  they  will  lend  a 
fearless  ear  to  the  learned  apostle,  when  he  both  assures  and 
labors  to  persuade  them  that  they  were  called  in  Christ  to  all 
perfectness  in  spiritual  knowledge  and  full  assurance  of  un- 
derstanding in  the  mystery  of  God.  There  can  be  no  end 
without  means :  and  God  furnishes  no  means  that  exempt  us 
from  the  task  and  duty  of  joining  our  own  best  endeavors. 
The  original  stock,  or  wild-olive  tree  of  our  natural  powers, 
was  not  given  us  to  be  burnt  or  blighted,  but  to  be  grafted  on. 
We  are  not  only  not  forbidden  to  examine  and  propose  our 
doubts,  so  it  be  done  with  humility  and  proceed  from  a  real 
desire  to  know  the  Truth  ;  but  we  are  repeatedly  commanded 
so  to  do  :  and  with  a  most  unchristian  spirit  must  that  man  have 
read  the  preceding  passages,  if  he  can  interpret  any  one  sen- 
tence as  having  for  its  object  to  excuse  a  too  numerous  class, 
who,  to  use  the  words  of  St.  Augustine,  qucerunt  non  ut  fidem 
sed  ut  infidelitatem  inveniant :  i.  e.  such  as  examine  not  to  find 
reasons  for  faith,  but  pretexts  for  infidelity. 


>«(& 


ESSAY    VIII. 


Such  is  the  iniquity  of  men,  that  they  euck  in  opinions  as  wild  asses  do  the 
wind,  without  distinguishing  the  wholesome  from  the  coiTupted  air,  and 
then  hve  upon  it  at  a  venture :  and  when  all  their  confidence  is  huilt  upon 
Zealand  mistake,  yet  therefore  because  they  are  zealous  and  mistaken 
they  are  impatient  of  contradiction. Taylor's  Epist.  Dedic.  to  the  Lib- 
erty of  Prophesying. 


"If,"  (observes  the  eloquent  Bishop  in  the  13th  section  of 
the  work,  from  which  my  motto  is  selected)  "  an  opinion  plain- 
ly and  directly  brings  in  a  crime,  as  if  a  man  preaches  treason 
or  sedition,  his  opinion  is  not  his  excuse.  A  man  is  neverthe- 
less a  traitor  because  he  believes  it  lawful  to  commit  treason  ; 
and  a  man  is  a  murtherer  if  he  kills  his  brother  unjustly,  al- 
though he  should  think  that  he  was  doing  God  good  service 
thereby,  flutters  of  fact  are  equally  judicable,  whether  the 
principle  of  them  be  from  within  or  from  without.'^'' 

To  dogmatize  a  crime,  that  is,  to  teach  it  as  a  doctrine,  is  it- 
self a  crime,  great  or  small  as  the  crime  dogmatized  is  more  or 
less  palpably  so.  You  say  (said  Sir  John  Cheke,  addressing 
himself  to  the  Papists  of  his  day )  that  you  rebel  for  your  reli- 
gion. First  tell  me,  what  religion  is  that  which  teaches  you 
to  rebel.  As  my  object  in  the  present  section  is  to  treat  of 
Tolerance  and  Intolerance  in  the  public  bearings  of  opinions 
and  their  propagation,  I  shall  embrace  this  opportunity  of  se- 
lecting the  two  passages,  which  1  have  been  long  inclined  to 
consider  as  the  most  eloquent  in  our  English  Literature,  though 
each  in  a  very  different  style  of  eloquence,  as  indeed  the  au- 
thors were  as  dissimilar  in  their  bias,  if  not  in  their  faith,  as 
two  bishops  of  the  same  church  can  well  be  supposed  to  have 
been.     I  think  too,   I   may  venture  to  add,  that  both  the  ex- 


246 

tracts  will  be  new  to  a  very  great  majority  of  my  readers.  For 
the  length  I  make  no  apology.  It  was  part  of  my  plan  to  allot 
two  numbers  of  The  Friend,  the  one  to  a  selection  from  our 
prose  writers,  and  the  other  from  our  poets;  but  in  both  cases 
from  works  that  do  not  occur  in  our  ordinary  reading. 

The  following  passages  are  both  on  the  same  subject :  the 
first  from  Taylor's  Dissuasive  from  Popery  : — the  second  from 
a  Letter  of  Bishop  Bedell's  to  an  unhappy  friend  who  had  de- 
serted the  church  of  England  for  that  of  Rome. 

1.  The  Rise  and  Progress  of  a  controversy,  from  the  specu- 
lative Opinion  of  an  Individual  to  the  Revolution  or  Intestine 
War  of  a  Nation. 

This  is  one  of  the  inseparable  characters  of  an  heretic  ;  he 
sets  his  whole  communion  and  all  his  charity  upon  his  article  ; 
for  to  be  zealous  in  the  schism,  that  is  the  characteristic  of  a 
good  man,  that  is  his  note  of  Christianity  ;  in  all  the  rest  he  ex- 
cuses you  or  tolerates  you,  provided  you  be  a  true  believer ; 
then  you  are  one  of  the  faithful,  a  good  man  and  a  precious, 
you  are  of  the  congregation  of  the  saints,  and  one  of  the  god- 
ly. All  Solifidians  do  thus  ;  and  all  that  do  thus  are  Solifidians, 
the  church  of  Rome  herself  not  excepted  ;  for  though  in  words 
she  proclaims  the  possibility  of  keeping  all  the  commandments  ; 
yet  she  dispenses  easier  with  him  that  breaks  them  all,  than 
with  him  that  speaks  one  word  against  any  of  her  articles, 
though  but  the  least  ;  even  the  eating  of  fish  and  forbidding 
flesh  in  Lent.  So  that  it  is  faith  they  regard  more  than  chari- 
ty, a  right  belief  more  than  a  holy  life  ;  and  for  this  you  shall 
be  with  them  upon  terms  easy  enough,  provided  you  go  not  a 
hair's  breadth  from  any  thing  of  her  belief.  For  if  you  do, 
they  have  provided  for  you  two  deaths  and  two  fires,  both  in- 
evitable and  one  eternal.  And  this  certainly  is  one  of  the 
greatest  evils,  of  which  the  Church  of  Rome  is  guilty  :  for  this 
in  itself  is  the  greatest  and  unworthiest  uncharitableness.  But 
the  procedure  is  of  great  use  to  their  ends.  For  the  greatest 
part  of  Christians  are  those  that  cannot  consider  things  leisure- 
ly and  wisely,  searching  their  bottoms  and  discovering  their 
causes,  or  foreseeing  events  which  are  to  come  after  ;  but  are 
carried  away  by  fear  and  hope,  by  affection  and  prepossession  : 
and  therefore  the  Roman  doctors  are  careful  to  govern  them  as 
they  will  be  governed.  If  you  dispute,  you  gain,  it  may  be, 
one,  and  lose  five ;    but  if  ye    threaten   them  with   damnation. 


247 

you  keep  them  in  fetters  ;  for  they  that  are,  Hn  fear  of  death, 
are  all  their  life  time  in  bondage^*  (saith  the  Apostle:)  and 
there  is  in  the  world  nothing  so  potent  as  fear  of  the  two 
deaths,  which  are  the  two  arras  and  grapples  of  iron  by  which 
the  church  of  Rome  takes  and  keeps  her  timorous  or  conscien- 
tious proselytes.  The  easy  Protestant  calls  upon  you  from 
scripture  to  do  your  duty,  to  build  a  holy  life  upon  a  holy  faith, 
the  faith  of  the  Apostles  and  first  disciples  of  our  Lord  ;  he 
tells  you  if  you  err,  and  teaches  ye  the  truth ;  and  if  ye  will 
obey  it  is  well,  if  not,  he  tells  you  of  your  sin,  and  that  all  sin 
deserves  the  wrath  of  God  ;  but  judges  no  man's  person, 
much  less  any  states  of  men.  He  knows  that  God's  judg- 
ments are  righteous  and  true  ;  but  he  knows  also,  that  his  mer- 
cy absolves  many  persons,  who,  in  his  just  judgment,  were 
condemned  :  and  if  he  had  a  warrant  from  God  to  say,  that  he 
should  destroy  all  the  papists,  as  Jonas  had  concerning  the 
Ninevites;  yet  he  remembers  that  every  repentance,  if  it  be 
sincere,  will  do  more,  and  prevail  greater,  and  last  longer  than 
God's  anger  will.  Besides  these  things,  there  is  a  strange 
spring,  and  secret  principle  in  every  man's  understanding,  that 
it  is  oftentimes  turned  about  by  such  impulses,  of  which  no 
man  can  give  an  account.  But  we  all  remember  a  most  won- 
derful instance  of  it,  in  the  disputation  between  the  two  Rey- 
nolds's, John  and  William  ;  the  former  of  which  being  a  Papist, 
and  the  latter  a  Protestant,  met  and  disputed,  with  a  purpose  to 
confute,  and  to  convert  each  other.  And  so  they  did :  for 
those  arguments,  which  were  used,  prevailed  fully  against 
their  adversary,  and  yet  did  not  prevail  with  themselves.  The 
Papist  turned  Protestant,  and  the  Protestant  became  a  Papist, 
and  so  remained  to  their  dying  day.  Of  which  some  ingen- 
ious person  gave  a  most  handsome  account  in  the  following  ex- 
cellent Epigram, 

Bella,  inter  geminos,  plusquatn  civilia,  fraU'CS 

Traxerat  ambigiuis  Religionis  apex. 
Ille  reformatae  fidei  propartibus  instat : 

Iste  reformandain  denegat  esse  fidem. 
Propositis  causae  rationibus ;  alter  utrinque 

ConcuiTere  pares,  et  cecidere  pai'es. 
Quod  fuit  in  votis,  fratrem  capit  alter  uterq ; 

*  Hebj-ews,  ii.  15. 


248 

Quod  fiiit  in  fatis,  perdit  uterque  fidem. 
Captivi  gemini  sine  captivante  fuerunt, 

Et  victor  victi  transfiiga  castra  petit. 
Quod  genus  hoc  pugnae  est,  ubi  victus  gaudet  uterq ; 

Et  tamen  alteruter  se  superasse  dolet  ? 

But  further  yet,  he  considers  the  natural  and  regular  infirmi- 
ties of  mankind ;  and  God  considers  them  much  more ;  he 
knows  that  in  man  there  is  nothing  admirable  but  his  ignorance 
and  weakness ;  his  prejudice ^  and  the  infallible  certainty  of 
being  deceived  in  many  things ;  he  sees,  that  wicked  men  of- 
tentimes know  much  more  than  many  very  good  men ;  and  that 
the  understanding  is  not  of  itself  considerable  in  morality,  and 
effects  nothing  in  rewards  and  punishments  ;  it  is  the  will  only 
that  rules  man,  and  can  obey  God.  He  sees  and  deplores  it, 
that  many  men  study  hard,  and  understand  little  ,  that  they  dis- 
pute earnestly,  and  understand  not  one  another  at  all;  that 
affections  creep  so  certainly,  and  mingle  with  their  arguing,  that 
the  argument  is  lost,  and  nothing  remains  but  the  conflict  of 
two  adversaries'  affections  ;  that  a  man  is  so  willing,  so  easy,  so 
ready,  to  believe  what  makes  for  his  opinion,  so  hard  to  under- 
stand an  argument  against  himself,  that  it  is  plain,  it  is  the  prin- 
ciple within,  not  the  argument  without,  that  determines  him. 
He  observes  also  that  all  the  world  (a  few  individuals  except- 
ed) are  unalterably  determined  to  the  religion  of  their  country, 
of  their  family,  of  their  society ;  that  there  is  never  any  con- 
siderable change  made,  but  what  is  made  by  war  and  empire, 
by  fear  and  hope.  He  remembers  that  it  is  a  rare  thing,  to  see 
a  Jesuit  of  the  Dominican  opinion  ;  or  a  Dominican  ( until  of 
late)  of  the  Jesuit;  but  every  order  gives  laws  to  the  under- 
standing of  their  novices,  and  they  never  change.  He  consid- 
ers there  is  such  ambiguity  in  words,  by  which  all  Lawgivers 
express  their  meaning ;  that  there  is  such  abstruseness  in  mys- 
teries of  religion,  that  some  things  are  so  much  too  high  for  us, 
that  we  cannot  understand  them  rightly ;  and  yet  they  are  so 
sacred,  and  concerning,  that  men  will  think  they  are  bound  to 
look  into  them,  as  far  as  they  can  ;  that  it  is  no  wonder  if  they 
quickly  go  too  far,  where  no  understanding,  if  it  were  fitted  for 
it,  could  go  far  enough  ;  but  in  these  things  it  will  be  hard  not 
to  be  deceived  ;  since  our  words  cannot  rightly  express  those 
things.  That  there  is  such  variety  of  human  understandings, 
that  men's  faces  difTer  not  so  much  as  their  souls;  and  that  if 
there  were  not  so  much  difficulty  in  things,  yet  they  could  not 


249 

but  be  variously  apprehended  by  several  men.  And  hereto  he 
considers,  that  in  twenty  opinions,  it  may  be  that  not  one  of 
them  is  true  ;  nay,  whereas  Varro  reckoned,  that  among  the  old 
Philosophers  there  were  eight  hundred  opinions  concerning  the 
summum  bonum,  that  yet  not  one  of  them  hit  the  right.  He 
sees  also  that  in  all  religions,  in  all  societies,  in  all  families, 
and  in  all  things,  opinions  differ  ;  and  since  opinions  are  too  often 
begot  by  passion,  by  passions  and  violence  they  are  kept ;  and 
every  man  is  too  apt  to  overvalue  his  own  opinion  ;  and  out  of 
a  desire  that  every  man  should  conform  his  judgment  to  his  that 
teaches,  men  are  apt  to  be  earnest  in  their  persuasion,  and 
overact  the  proposition  ;  and  from  being  true  as  he  supposes,  he 
will  think  it  profitable  ;  and  if  you  warm  him  either  with  con- 
fidence or  opposition,  he  quickly  tells  you  it  is  necessary  ;  and 
as  he  loves  those  that  think  as  he  does,  so  he  is  ready  to  hate 
them  that  do  not ;  and  then  secretly  from  wishing  evil  to  him,  he 
is  apt  to  believe  evil  will  come  to  him ;  and  that  it  is  just  it 
should  ;  and  by  this  time  the  opinion  is  troublesome,  and  puts 
other  men  upon  their  guard  against  it ;  and  then  while  passion 
reigns,  and  reason  is  modest  and  patient,  and  talks  not  loud  like 
a  storm,  victory  is  more  regarded  than  truth,  and  men  call  God 
into  the  party,  and  his  judgments  are  used  for  arguments,  and 
the  threatnings  of  the  Scripture  are  snatched  up  in  haste,  and 
men  throw  arrows,  fire-brands,  and  death,  and  by  this  time  all 
the  world  is  in  an  uproar.  All  this,  and  a  thousand  things  more 
the  English  protestants  considering  deny  not  their  communion 
to  any  Christian  who  desires  it,  and  believes  the  Apostles' 
Creed,  and  is  of  the  religion  of  the  four  first  general  councils ; 
they  hope  well  of  all  that  live  well ;  they  receive  into  their  bo- 
som all  true  believers  of  what  church  soever ;  and  for  them 
that  err,  they  instruct  them,  and  then  leave  them  to  their  liber- 
ty, to  stand  or  fall  before  their  own  master. — 

2.  A  Doctrine  not  the  less  safe  for  being  the  more  charitable. 

"  Christ  our  Lord  hath  given  us,  amongst  others,  two  infalli- 
ble notes  to  know  the  church."  "My  sheep,"  saith  he,  "  hear 
my  voice  :"  and  again,  "  By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  you 
are  my  disciples,  if  ye  love  one  another." — What,  shall  we  stand 
upon  conjectural  arguments  from  that  which  men  say  ?  We  are 
partial  to  ourselves,  malignant  to  our  opposites.  Let  Christ  be 
heard  who  be  his,  who  not.    And  (or  the  hearing  of  his  voice — 

O  that  it  might  be  the  issue  !     But  I  see  you  decline  it,  there- 
32 


250 

fore  I  leave  it  also  for  the  present.  That  other  is  that  which 
now  I  stand  upon  :  "the  badge  of  Christ's  sheep."  Not  a  like- 
lihood, but  a  certain  token  whereby  every  man  may  know  them  : 
"by  this,"  saith  he,  "shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  disci- 
ples, if  ye  have  charity  one  towards  another." — Thanks  be  to 
God,  this  mark  of  our  Saviour  is  in  us  which  you  with  our 
schismaticks  and  other  enemies  w^ant.  As  Solomon  found  the 
true  mother  by  her  natural  affection,  that  chose  rather  to  yield 
to  her  adversary's  plea,  claiming  her  child,  than  endure  that  it 
should  be  cut  in  pieces ;  so  may  it  soon  be  found  at  this  day 
whether  is  the  true  mother.  Ours,  that  saith,  give  her  the 
living  child  and  kill  him  not ;  or  yours,  that  if  she  may  not 
have  it,  is  content  it  be  killed  rather  than  want  of  her  will. 
Alas!  (saith  ours  even  of  those  that  leave  her)  these  be  my 
children  !  I  have  borne  them  to  Christ  in  baptism  :  I  have  nour- 
ished them  as  I  could  with  mine  own  breasts,  his  testaments. 
I  would  have  brought  them  up  to  man's  estate,  as  their  free 
birth  and  parentage  deserves.  Whether  it  be  their  lightness  or 
discontent,  or  her  enticing  words  and  gay  shews,  they  leave 
me :  they  have  found  a  better  mother.  Let  them  live  yet, 
though  in  bondage.  I  shall  have  patience;  I  permit  the  care 
of  them  to  their  father,  I  beseech  him  to  keep  them  that  they 
do  no  evil.  If  they  make  their  peace  with  him,  I  am  satisfied : 
they  have  not  hurt  me  at  all.  Nay,  but  saith  yours,  I  sit  alone 
as  Queen  and  Mistress  of  Christ's  Family,  he  that  hath  not  me 
for  his  Mother,  cannot  have  God  for  his  Father.  Mine  there- 
fore are  these,  either  born  or  adopted :  and  if  they  will  not  be 
mine  they  shall  be  none.  So  without  expecting  Christ's  sen- 
tence she  cuts  with  the  temporal  sv.ord,  hangs,  burns,  draws, 
those  that  she  perceives  inclined  to  leave  her,  or  have  left  her 
already.  So  she  kills  with  the  spiritual  sword  those  that  sub- 
ject not  to  her,  yea  thousands  of  souls  that  not  only  have  no 
means  so  to  do,  but  many  which  never  so  much  as  have  heard, 
whether  there  be  a  Pope  of  Rome  or  no.  Let  our  Solomon  be 
judge  between  them,  yea,  judge  you,  Mr.  Waddesworth  !  more 
seriously  and  maturely,  not  by  guesses,  but  by  the  very  mark 
of  Christ,  which  wanting  yourselves  you  have  unawares  disco- 
vered in  us :  judge,  I  say,  without  passion  and  partiality,  ac- 
cording to  Christ's  word  :  which  is  his  flock,  which  is  his  church. 


ESSAY    IX. 

ON  THE  LAW  OF   NATIONS. 


riqo'g  TCoXeojg  svSutftoriuv  ytui  Sixuiocrv'  vrjv  rcuvra  Idioi'rov  I'fiTtoaod'sv 
reraxTut  (pv'asr  to'vtojv  de  ru  pei'  ^ uv&gOi)' Ttiva  iig  xa'  S'sia,  tu  ds 
■d-eia  etc  toV  'rjyefio'vu  No'vv  S.v'finavTa  dei  ^leitetv,  d'v/  'wg  nQog 
a^QBirjg  zl  fiooiov,  ullu  nqo^g  aQeir^v  iv  agsraig  nsi  'v7toi.iEi'ou~auv,  'ag 
Tiqo'g  i'o\uop  lira  I'o/LtoxfsTO'vmu. 

nXuiMV  negl  Nof.ioji'. 

Translation. — For  all  things  that  regard  the  well-beuig  and  justice  of  a  State 
are  pre-ordained  and  established  in  the  nature  of  the  individual.  Of  these 
it  behoves  that  the  merely  human  (the  temporal  andjluxional)  should  be  re- 
ferred and  subordinated  to  the  Divine  in  man,  and  the  Divine  in  hke  man- 
ner to  the  Supreme  Mind,  so  however  that  the  State  is  not  to  regulate  its 
actions  by  reference  to  any  particular  form  and  fragment  of  virtue,  but 
must  fix  its  eye  on  that  virtue,  which  is  the  abiding  spirit  and  (as  it  were) 
substratum  in  all  the  virtues,  as  on  a  law  that  is  itself  legislative. 


It  were  absurd  to  suppose,  that  individuals  should  be  under 
a  law  of  Moral  obligation,  and  yet  that  a  million  of  the  same 
individuals  acting  collectively  or  through  representatives,  should 
be  exempt  from  all  law :  for  morality  is  no  accident  of  human 
nature,  but  its  essential  characteristic.  A  being  absolutely 
without  morality  is  either  a  beast  or  a  fiend,  according  as  we 
conceive  this  want  of  conscience  to  be  natural  or  self-produ- 
ced;  or  (to  come  nearer  to  the  common  notion,  though  with 
the  sacrifice  of  austere  accuracy)  according  as  the  being  is 
conceived  without  the  law,  or  in  unceasing  and  irretrievable 
rebellion  to  it.  Yet  were  it  possible  to  conceive  a  man  wholly 
immoral,  it  would  remain  impossible  to  conceive  him  without  a 
moral  obligation  to  be  otherwise  ;  and  none,  but  a  madman, 
will  imagine  that  the  essential  qualities  of  any  thing  can  be  al- 
tered by  its  becoming  part  of  an  aggregate  ;  that  a  grain  of 
corn,  for  instance,    shall  cease  to  contain  flour,  as  soon  as  it  is 


252 

part  of  a  peck  or  bushel.  It  is  therefore  grounded  in  the  na- 
ture of  the  thing,  and  not  by  a  mere  fiction  of  the  mind,  that 
wise  men,  who  have  written  on  the  law  of  nations,  have  al- 
ways considered  the  several  states  of  the  civilized  world,  as 
so  many  individuals,  and  equally  with  the  latter  under  a  moral 
obligation  to  exercise  their  free  agency  within  such  bounds,  as 
render  it  compatible  with  the  existence  of  free  agency  in  oth- 
ers. We  may  represent  to  ourselves  this  original  free  agency, 
as  a  right  of  commonage,  the  formation  of  separate  states  as 
an  enclosure  of  this  common,  the  allotments  awarded  severally 
to  the  co-proprietors  as  constituting  national  rights,  and  the 
law  of  nations  as  the  common  register  office  of  their  title 
deeds.  But  in  all  morality,  though  the  principle,  which  is  the 
abiding  spirit  of  the  law,  remains  perpetual  and  unaltered, 
even  as  that  supreme  reason  in  whom  and  from  whom  it  has  its 
being,  yet  the  letter  of  the  law,  that  is,  the  application  of  it  to 
particular  instances,  and  the  mode  of  realizing  it  in  actual 
practice,  must  be  modified  by  the  existing  circumstances.  What 
we  should  desire  to  do,  the  conscience  alone  will  inform  us ; 
but  how  and  when  we  are  to  make  the  attempt,  and  to  what 
extent  it  is  in  our  power  to  accomplish  it,  are  questions  for  the 
judgment,  and  require  an  acquaintance  with  facts  and  their 
bearings  on  each  other.  Thence  the  improvement  of  our 
judgment,  and  the  increase  of  our  knowledge,  on  all  subjects 
included  within  our  sphere  of  action,  are  not  merely  advanta- 
ges recommended  by  prudence,  but  absolute  duties  imposed  on 
us  by  conscience. 

As  the  circumstances  then,  under  which  men  act  as  States- 
men, are  different  from  those  under  which  they  act  as  individu- 
als, a  proportionate  difference  must  be  expected  in  the  practical 
rules  by  which  their  public  conduct  is  to  be  determined.  Let 
me  not  be  misunderstood  :  I  speak  of  a  ditlerence  in  the  prac- 
tical rules,  not  in  the  moral  law  itself  which  these  rules  point 
out,  the  means  of  administering  in  particular  cases,  and  under 
given  circumstances.  The  spirit  continues  one  and  the  same, 
though  it  may  vary  its  form  according  to  the  element  into 
which  it  is  transported.  This  difference  with  its  grounds  and 
consequences  it  is  the  province  of  the  philosophical  juspublic- 
ist  to  discover  and  display  :  and  exactly  in  this  point  ( I  speak 
with  unfeigned  diffidence )   it  appears  to  me   that  the  Writers 


253 

on  the  Law  of  Nations,*  whose  works  I  have  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  studying,  have  been  least  successful.  In  what  does 
the  Law  of  Nations  differ  from  the  Laws  enacted  by  a  particu- 
lar State  for  its  own  subjects  ?  The  solution  is  evident.  The 
Law  of  Nations,  considered  apart  from  the  common  principle 
of  all  morality,  is  not  fixed  or  positive  in  itself,  nor  supplied 
with  any  regular  means  of  being  enforced.  Like  those  duties 
in  private  life  which,  for  the  same  reasons,  moralists  have  enti- 
tled imperfect  duties  (though  the  most  atrocious  guilt  may  be 
involved  in  the  omission  or  violation  of  them,)  the  Law  of 
Nations  appeals  only  to  the  conscience  and  prudence  of  the 
parties  concerned.  Wherein  then  does  it  differ  from  the  moral 
laws  which  the  Reason,  considered  as  Conscience,  dictates  for 
the  conduct  of  individuals  ?  This  is  a  more  difficult  question ; 
but  my  answer  would  be  determined  by,  and  grounded  on  the 
obvious  differences  of  the  circumstances  in  the  two  cases.  Re- 
member then,  that  we  are  now  reasoning,  not  as  sophists  or 
system-mongers,  but  as  men  anxious  to  discover  what  is  right 
in  order  that  we  may  practice  it,  or  at  least,  give  our  suffrage 
and  the  influence  of  our  opinion  in  recommending  its  practice. 
We  must  therefore  confine  the  question  to  those  cases,  in  which 
honest  men  and  real  patriots  can  suppose  any  controversy  to 
exist  between  real  patriotism  and  common  honesty.  The  ob- 
jects of  the  patriot  are,  that  his  countrymen  should  as  far  as 
circumstances  permit,  enjoy  what  the  Creator  designed  for  the 
enjoyment  of  animals  endowed  with  reason,  and  of  course  de- 
veloped those  faculties  which  were  given  them  to  be  developed. 
He  would  do  his  best  that  every  one  of  his  countrymen  should 
possess  whatever  all  men  may  and  should  possess,  and  that  a 
sufficient  number  should  be  enabled  and  encouraged  to  acquire 
those  excellencies  which,  though  not  necessary  or  possible 
for   all   men,   are  yet   to  all   men   useful   and   honorable.     He 


*  Grntiiis,  Bykenslioek,  Puffendorf.  Wolfe,  and  Vatcl ;  to  whose  works  I 
must  add,  as  coin])nzing  whatever  is  most  vahialjle  in  the  preceding 
Authors,  with  manj^  important  improvements  and  additions,  Robinson's  Re- 
ports of  the  Causes  of  the  Court  of  Admiralty  under  Sir  W.  Scott:  to  whom 
international  law  is  under  no  less  obligation  than  the  law  of  commercial  pro- 
ceedings was  to  the  late  Lord  Mansfield.  As  I  have  never  seen  Sir  W.  Scott, 
nor  either  by  myself  or  my  connections  enjoy  the  honor  of  the  remotest  ac- 
quaintance with  him,  I  trust  that  even  by  those  who  may  think  my  opinion 
erroneous,  I  shall  at  least  not  be  suspected  of  intentional  flatteiy. 


254 

knows,  that  patriotism  itself  is  a  necessary  link  in  the  golden 
chain  of  our  affections  and  virtues,  and  turns  away  with  indig- 
nant scorn  from  the  false  Philosophy  or  mistaken  Religion, 
which  would  persuade  him  that  Cosmopolitism  is  nobler  than 
Nationality,  and  the  human  race  a  sublimer  object  of  love  than 
a  people  ;  that  Plato,  Luther,  Newton,  and  their  equals,  formed 
themselves  neither  in  the  market  nor  the  senate,  but  in  the 
world,  and  for  all  men  of  all  ages.  True  !  But  where,  and 
among  whom  are  these  giant  exceptions  produced  ?  In  the  wide 
empires  of  Asia,  where  millions  of  human  beings  acknowledge 
no  other  bond  but  that  of  a  common  slavery,  and  are  distin- 
guished on  the  map  but  by  a  name  which  themselves  perhaps 
never  heard,  or  hearing  abhor?  No  !  In  a  circle  defined  by  hu- 
man affections,  the  first  firm  sod  within  which  becomes  sacred 
beneath  the  quickened  step  of  the  returning  citizen — here, 
where  the  powers  and  interests  of  men  spread  without  confu- 
sion through  a  common  sphere,  like  the  vibrations  propagated 
in  the  air  by  a  single  voice,  distinct  yet  coherent,  and  all  uni- 
;ting  to  express  one  thought  and  the  same  feeling  !  here,  where 
even  the  common  soldier  dares  force  a  passage  for  his  comrades 
by  gathering  up  the  bayonets  of  the  enemy  into  his  own  breast: 
because  his  country  '■'■  expected  every  man  to  do  his  duty  /"  and 
this  not  after  he  has  been  hardened  by  habit,  but,  as  probably, 
in  his  first  battle  ;  not  reckless  or  hopeless,  but  braving  death 
from  a  keener  sensibility  to  those  blessings  which  make  life 
dear,  to  those  qualities  which  render  himself  worthy  to  enjoy 
them  ?  Here,  where  the  royal  crown  is  loved  and  worshipped 
as  a  glory  around  the  sainted  head  of  Freedom  !  Where  the 
rustic  at  his  plough  whistles  with  equal  enthusiasm,  "  God  save 
the  King,^^  and  "  Britons  never  shall  be  Slaves  ;"  or,  perhaps, 
leaves  one  thistle  unweeded  in  his  garden,  because  it  is  the  sym- 
bol of  his  dear  native  land  !*     Here,  from  within  this  circle  de- 


*  I  cannot  here  refuse  myself  the  i)leasure  of  recording  a  speech  of  the 
Poet  Burns,  related  to  me  by  the  lady  to  whom  it  was  addressed.  Having 
been  asked  by  her,  why  in  his  more  serious  poems  he  had  not  changed  the 
two  or  three  Scotch  words  which  seemed  only  to  disturb  the  purity  of  the 
style  ?  the  Poet  with  great  sweetness,  and  in  his  usual  hajipiness  in  reply 
answered  why  in  truth  it  would  have  been  better,  but — 

The  rough  bur-thistle  spreading  wide 
Aniang  the  bearded  bear, 


255 

fined,  as  light  by  shade,  or  rather  as  light  within  light,  by  its 
intensity,  here  alone,  and  only  within  these  magic  circles,  rise 
up  the  awful  spirits,  whose  words  are  oracles  for  mankind, 
whose  love  embraces  all  countries,  and  whose  voice  sounds 
through  all  ages !  Here,  and  here  only,  may  we  confidently 
expect  those  mighty  minds  to  be  reared  and  ripened,  whose 
names  are  naturalized  in  foreign  lands,  the  sure  fellow-travel- 
lers of  civilization  !  and  yet  render  their  own  country  dearer 
and  more  proudly  dear  to  their  own  countrymen.  This  is  in- 
deed Cosmopolitism,  at  once  the  nursling  and  the  nurse  of  pa- 
triotic affection  !  This,  and  this  alone,  is  genuine  Philanthro- 
py, which  like  the  olive  tree,  sacred  to  Concord  and  to  Wis- 
dom, fattens  not  exhausts  the  soil,  from  which  it  sprang,  and  in 
which  it  remains  rooted.  It  is  feebleness  only  which  cannot  be 
generous  without  injustice,  or  just  without  ceasing  to  be  gene- 
rous. Is  the  morning  star  less  brilliant,  or  does  a  ray  less  fall 
on  the  golden  fruitage  of  the  earth,  because  the  moons  of  Sa- 
turn too  feed  their  lamps  from  the  same  Sun  ?  Even  Germany,, 
though  curst  with  a  base  and  hateful  brood  of  nobles  and  prince- 
lings, cowardly  and  ravenous  jackals  to  the  very  flocks  en- 
trusted to  them  as  to  shepherds,  who  hunt  for  the  tiger  and 
whine  and  wag  their  tails  for  his  bloody  oft'al — even  Germany^ 
whose  ever-changing  boundaries  superannuate  the  last  year's 
map,  and  are  altered  as  easily  as  the  hurdles  of  a  temporary 
sheep-fold,  is  still  remembered  with  filial  love  and  a  patriot's 
pride,  when  the  thoughtful  German  hears  the  names  of  Luther 
and  Leibnitz.  "Ah!  why,"  he  sighs,  "why  for  herself  in 
vain  should  my  country  have  produced  such  a  host  of  immortal 
minds  !"  Yea,  even  the  poor  enslaved,  degraded,  and  barbarized 
Greek,  can  still  point  to  the  harbour  of  Tenedos,  and  say,  "  there 
lay  our  fleet  when  we  were  besieging  Troy."  Reflect  a  moment 
on  the  past  history  of  this  wonderful  people  !  What  were  they 
while  they  remained  free  and  independent  ?  when  Greece  re- 
sembled a  collection  of  mirrors  set  in  a  single  frame,  each  having 
its  own  focus  of  patriotism,  yaX  all  capable,  as  at  Marathon  and 

I  tiiruM  tlie  weeder-clips  aside 
All'  spar'd  the  symbol  dear. 

An  author  may  be  allowed  to  quote  from  his  own  poe/ns,  when  he  duet}  it 
with  as  much  modesty  and  telicity  as  Burns  did  in  this  instance. 


256 

Platea,  of  converging  to  one  point  and  of  consuming  a  common 
foe  ?  What  were  they  then  ?  The  fountains  of  light  and  civil- 
ization, of  truth  and  of  beauty,  to  all  mankind  !  they  were  the 
thinking  head,  the  beating  heart  of  the  whole  world  !  They 
lost  their  independence,  and  with  their  independence  their  pat- 
riotism ;  and  became  the  cosmopolites  of  antiquity.  It  has  been 
truly  observed  (by  the  author  of  the  work  for  which  Palm  was 
murdered)  that,  after  the  first  acts  of  severity,  the  Romans 
treated  the  Greeks  not  only  more  mildly  than  their  other  slaves 
and  dependants,  they  behaved  to  them  even  affectionately  and 
with  munificence.  The  victor  nation  felt  reverentially  the  pre- 
sence of  the  visible  and  invisible  deities  that  give  sanctity  to 
every  grove,  every  fountain,  and  every  forum.  "  Think  (writes 
Pliny  to  one  of  his  friends)  that  you  are  sent  into  the  province 
of  Achaia,  that  true  and  genuine  Greece,  where  civilization, 
letters,  even  corn,  are  believed  to  have  been  discovered;  that 
you  are  sent  to  administer  the  affairs  of  free  states,  that  is,  to 
men  eminently  free,  who  have  retained  their  natural  right  by 
valor,  by  services,  by  friendship,  lastly  by  treaty  and  by  religion. 
Revere  the  Gods,  their  founders,  the  sacred  influences  repre- 
sented in  those  Gods,  revere  their  ancient  glory  and  this  very 
old  age  which  in  man  is  venerable,  in  cities  sacred.  Cherish 
in  thyself  a  reverence  of  antiquity,  a  reverence  for  their  great 
exploits,  a  reverence  even  for  their  fables.  Detract  nothing 
from  the  proud  pretensions  of  any  state  ;  keep  before  thine 
eyes  that  this  is  the  land  which  sent  us  our  institutions,  which 
gave  us  our  laws,  not  after  it  was  subjugated,  but  in  compli- 
ance with  our  petition."*  And  what  came  out  of  these  men, 
who  were  eminently  free  without  patriotism,  because  with- 
out national  independence?  (which  eminent  freedom,  how- 
ever, Pliny  himself,  in  the  very  next  sentence,  styles  the 
shadow  and  residuum  of  liberty.)  While  they  were  intense 
patriots,  they  were  the  benefactors  of  all  mankind,  legisla- 
tors for  the  very  nation  that  afterwards  subdued  and  ensla- 
ved them.  When,  therefore,  they  became  pure  cosmopolites, 
and  no  partial  affections  interrupted  their  philanthropy,  and 
when  yet  they  retained  their  country,  their  language,  and  their 
arts,  what  noble  works,  what  mighty  discoveries  may  we  not 
expect  from   them  ?  If  the  applause  of  a  little  city  (a  first  rate 

Plin.  Epist.  Lib.  VIII. 


257 

town  of  a  country  not  much  larger  than  Yorkshire)  and  the 
encouragement  of  a  Pericles,  produced  a  Phidias,  a  Sopho- 
cles, and  a  constellation  of  other  stars  scarcely  inferior  in  glo- 
ry, what  will  not  the  applause  of  the  world  effect,  and  the 
boundless  munificence  of  the  world's  imperial  master  ?  Alas  ! 
no  Sophocles  appeared,  no  Phidias  was  born  !  individual  genius 
fled  with  national  independence,  and  the  best  products  were 
cold  and  laborious  copies  of  what  their  fathers  had  thought  and 
invented  in  grandeur  and  majesty.  At  length  nothing  remain- 
ed, but  dastardly  and  cunning  slaves,  who  avenged  their  own 
ruin  and  degradation  by  assisting  to  degrade  and  ruin  their  con- 
querors ;  and  the  golden  harp  of  their  divine  language  remain- 
ed only  as  the  frame  on  which  priests  and  monks  spun  their 
dirty  cobwebs  of  sophistry  and  superstition  ! 

If  then  in  order  to  be  men  Ave  must  be  patriots,  and  patriot- 
ism cannot  exist  without  national  independence,  we  need  no 
new  or  particular  code  of  morals  to  justify  us  in  placing  and 
preserving  our  country  in  that  relative  situation  which  is  more 
favorable  to  its  independence.  But  the  true  patriot  is  aware 
that  this  subject  is  not  to  be  accomplished  by  a  system  of  gen- 
eral conquest,  such  as  was  pursued  by  Philip  of  Macedon  and 
his  son,  nor  yet  by  the  political  annihilation  of  the  one  state, 
which  happens  to  be  its  most  formidable  rival :  the  unwise 
measure  recommended  by  Cato,  and  carried  into  eiTect  by  the 
Romans,  in  the  instance  of  Carthage.  I\ot  by  the  latter:  for 
rivalry  between  two  nations  conduces  to  the  independence  of 
both,  calls  forth  or  fosters  all  the  virtues  by  which  national  se- 
curity is  maintained.  Still  less  by  the  former  :  for  the  victor 
nation  itself  must  at  length,  by  the  very  extension  of  its  own 
conquests,  sink  into  a  mere  province  ;  nay,  it  Vv'ill  most  probably 
become  the  most  abject  portion  of  the  Empire,  and  the  most  cru- 
elly oppressed,  both  because  it  will  be  more  feared  and  sus- 
pected by  the  common  tyrant,  and  because  it  will  be  the  sink 
and  centre  of  his  luxury  and  corruption.  Even  in  cases  of  ac- 
tual injury  and  just  alarm  the  Patriot  sets  bounds  to  the  repri- 
sal of  national  vengeance,  and  contents  himself  with  such  se- 
curities as  are  couipatible  with  the  welfare,  though  not  with 
the  ambitious  projects  of  the  nation,  whose  aggressions  had 
given  the  provocation :  for  as  patriotism  inspires  no  super-hu- 
man faculties,  neither  can  it  dictate  any  conduct  which  would 
require  such.  He  is  too  conscious  of  his  own  ignorance  of  the 
53 


258 

future,  to  dare  extend  his  calculations  into  remote  periods ; 
nor,  because  he  is  a  statesman,  arrogates  to  himself  the  cares 
of  Providence  and  the  government  of  the  world.  How  does 
he  know,  but  that  the  very  independence  and  consequent  vir- 
tues of  the  nation,  which  in  the  anger  of  cowardice  he  would 
fain  reduce  to  absolute  insignificance,  and  rob  even  of  its  an- 
cient name,  may  in  some  future  emergence  be  the  destined 
guardians  of  his  own  country  ;  and  that  the  power  which  now 
alarms,  may  hereafter  protect  and  preserve  it?  The  experi- 
ence of  History  authorizes  not  only  the  possibility,  but  even 
the  probability  of  such  an  event.  An  American  commander, 
who  has  deserved  and  received  the  highest  honors  which  his 
grateful  country,  through  her  assembled  Representatives,  could 
bestow  upon  him,  once  said  to  me  with  a  sigh  :  In  an  evil 
hour  for  mj  country  did  the  French  and  Spaniards  abandon 
Louisiana  to  the  United  States.  We  were  not  sufficiently  a 
country  before  ;  and  should  we  ever  be  mad  enough  to  drive 
the  English  from  Canada  and  her  other  North  American  Prov- 
inces, we  shall  soon  cease  to  be  a  country  at  all.  Without  lo- 
cal attachment,  without  national  honour,  we  shall  resemble  a 
swarm  of  insects  that  settle  on  the  fruits  of  the  eaith  to  cor- 
rupt and  consume  them,  rather  than  men  who  love  and  cleave 
to  the  land  of  their  forefathers.  After  a  shapeless  anarchy, 
and  a  series  of  civil  wars,  we  shall  at  last  be  formed  into  ma- 
ny countries  ;  unless  the  vices  engendered  in  the  process  should 
demand  further  punishment,  and  we  should  previously  fall  be- 
neath the  despotism  of  some  military  adventurer,  like  a  lion, 
consumed  by  an  inward  disease,  prostrate  and  helpless,  be- 
neath the  beak  and  talons  of  a  vulture,  or  yet  meaner  bird  of 
prey. 


ESSAY     X. 


0,Tt  ^ev  TXQO'g  to'v  r5  d'lov  ■nT.ovrov,  fut  XXov  de  ttqo'c  tI  cpavracrfja  Ttolecog 
anu'uijg,  o"  nuvraxr}  y.ul  ovdu/Liif  egi,  qtgei  /iiu'i^ijfia  xul  enm/ devfia, 
rov'io  /oij'aiftoi'  y.ul  aocpov  tI  doiua&ijutiui,-  ibfv  de  uXXoiv  xajuyeXa 
o'  noliTtxog-  tixv't>]v  Tiff  uuiav  /qij"  cpct'iaijov  f^rjTe  u'D.o  xaXni',  /at/ts 
ru  TjQo'g  to'v  no'lefiov  fityuXonqenw;  'uoxeCv  lug  no'leig,  toj'p  tjuH- 
7(WJ'  fin'X'  evioTS  'ovx  acfvuTv  d't'Twr,  dvoTv^ov'vTOj't'  ye  f^^"-  Fl^'g 
Xeyeig;  JlitTg  ^ihv  ov~v  "'(xvjovg  o'v  Xeyoi^i''  uv  to  nuqunnv  dvaiv/eig, 
oig  ys  ara'yyrj  diu  Biov  nsivoj  en  Tift'  cpv/'f*'  "'^'  ^'i^  (avtijv  dia^eX- 
■&EIV.  JlluTwr, 

Translation. — Whatever  study  or  doctrine  bears  upon  the  wealth  of  the 
whole,  say  rather  on  a  certain  Phantom  of  a  State  in  toto,  whicJi  is  every 
where  and  no  where,  this  shall  be  deemed  most  useful  and  wise ;  and  all 
else  is  the  state-craftman's  scorn.  This  we  dare  pronounce  the  cause  why 
nations  torpid  on  their  dignity  in  general,  conduct  their  wars  so  little  in 
a  grand  and  magnanhnous  spirit,  while  the  Citizens  are  too  often  wretched, 
though  endowed  with  iiigh  capabilities  by  Nature.  Hoiv  sciy  you?  Nay, 
how  should  I  not  call  them  wretched,  who  are  under  the  imrelenting  neces- 
sity of  wasting  away  their  life  in  the  mere  search  after  the  means  of  sup- 
porting it? 

Plato,  de  Legibus,  viii. 


In  the  preceding  Essay  we  treated  of  what  may  be  wisely 
desired  in  respect  to  our  foreign  relations.  The  same  sanity  of 
mind  will  the  true  Patriot  display,  in  all  that  regards  the  internal 
prosperity  of  his  country.  He  will  reverence  not  only  what- 
ever tends  to  make  the  component  individuals  more  happy,  and 
more  worthy  of  happiness :  but  likewise  whatever  tends  to 
bind  them  more  closely  together  as  a  people  ;  that  as  a  multi- 
tude of  parts  and  functions  make  up  one  human  body,  so  the 
whole  multitude  of  of  his  countrymen  may,  by  the  visible  and 
invisible  influences  of  religion,  language,  laws,   customs,  and 


260 

the  reciprocal  dependence  and  re-action  of  trade  and  agri- 
culture, be  organized  into  one  body  politic.  But  much  as  he 
desires  to  see  all  become  a  whole,  he  places  limits  even  to 
this  wish,  and  abhors  that  system  of  policy,  which  would  blend 
men  into  a  state  by  the  dissolution  of  all  those  virtues  which 
make  them  happy  and  estimable  as  individuals.  Sir  James 
Stuart  (Polit.  Econ.  Vol.  I.  p.  88.)  after  stating  the  case  of  the 
vine-dresser,  who  is  proprietor  of  a  bit  of  land,  on  which  grain 
(enough,  and  no  more)  is  raised  for  himself  and  family — and 
who  provides  for  their  other  wants  of  clothing,  salt,  &c.  by  his 
extra  labor,  as  a  vine  dresser,  observes — "  From  this  example 
we  discover  the  difference  between  Agriculture  exercised  as 
a  trade,  and  as  a  direct  means  of  subsisting.  We  have  the 
two  species  in  the  vine-dresser  :  he  labours  the  vineyard  as  a 
trade,  and  his  spot  of  ground  for  subsistence.  Vv^e  may  farther 
conclude,  that  as  to  the  last  part  he  is  only  useful  to  himself; 
but  as  to  the  first,  he  is  useful  to  the  society  and  becomes  a 
member  of  it ;  consequently  were  it  not  for  his  trade  the  State 
would  lose  nothinar,  althou£:;hthe  vine-dresser  and  his  land  were 
both  swallowed  up  by  an  earthquake." 

Now  this  contains  the  sublime  philosophy  of  the  sect  of 
Economists.  They  worship  a  kind  of  non-entity  under  the 
different  words,  the  State,  the  Whole,  the  Society,  &c.  and  to 
this  idol  they  make  bloodier  sacrifices  than  ever  the  Mexicans 
did  to  Tescalipoca.  All,  that  is,  each  and  every  sentient  Be- 
ing in  a  given  tract,  are  made  diseased  and  vicious,  in  order 
that  each  may  become  useful  to  all,  or  the  State,  or  the  Socie- 
ty,— that  is,  to  the  ivord,  all,  the  Word,  State,  or  the  word.  So- 
ciety. The  absurdity  may  be  easily  perceived  by  omitting  the 
W'ords  relating  to  this  idol — as  for  instance — in  a  former  para- 
graph of  the  same  (in  most  respects)  excellent  work:  "  If  it 
therefore  happens  that  an  additional  number  produced  do  more 
than  feed  themselves,  then  I  perceive  no  advantage  gained 
from  their  production."  What  no  advantage  gained  by,  for 
instance,  ten  thousand  happy,  intelligent,  and  immortal  Be- 
ings having  been  produced  ? — 0  yes  !  but  no  advantage  "  to 
this  Society.— What  is  this  Society  ?  this  "  Whole  ?"  this 
"  State  ?"  Is  it  any  thing  else  but  a  word  of  convenience  to 
express  at  once  the  aggregate  of  confederated  individuals  liv- 
ing in  a  certain  district  ?  Let  the  sum  total  of  each  man's  hap- 
piness be  supposed — 1000  ;  and  suppose  ten  thousand  men  pro- 
duced, who  neither  made   swords  or  poison,  or  found  corn  or 


261 

clothes  for  those  who  did — but  who  procured  by  their  labor 
food  and  raiment  for  themselves,  and  for  their  children — would 
not  that  Society  be  richer  by  10,000,000  parts  of  happiness? 
And  think  you  it  possible,  that  ten  thousand  happy  hu.-.ian  Be- 
ings can  exist  together  without  increasing  each  others  Iiappi- 
ness,  or  that  it  will  not  overflow  into  countless  channels,*  and 
diffuse  itself  throug'i  the  rest  of  the  Society. 

The  poor  vine-dresser  rises  from  sweet  sleep,  worships  his 
Maker,  goes  with  his  wife  and  children  into  his  little  plot — re- 
turns to  his  hut  at  noon,  and  eats  the  produce  of  the  similar 
labor  of  a  former  day.  Is  he  useful?  No  !  not  yet.  Suppose 
then,  that  during  the  remaining  hours  of  the  day  he  endea- 
voured to  provide  for  his  moral  and  intellectual  appetites,  by 
physical  experiments  and  philosophical  research,  by  acquiring 
knowledge  for  himself,  and  communicating  it  to  his  wife  and 
children.  Would  he  be  useful  then  ?  "  He  useful  ?  The 
state  would  lose  nothing  although  the  vine-dresser,  and  his  land 
were  both  swallowed  up  by  an  earthquake  !"  Well  then,  in- 
stead of  devoting  the  latter  half  of  each  day  to  his  closet,  his 
laboratory,  or  to  neighborly  conversation,  suppose  he  goes  to  the 
vineyard,  and  from  the  ground  which  would  maintain  in  health, 
virtue,  and  wisdom,  twenty  of  his  fellow-creatures,  helps  to 
raise  a  quantity  of  liquor  that  will  disease  the  bodies,  and  de- 
bauch the  souls  of  an  hundred — Is  he  useful  noio  ? — O  yes  ! 
— a  very  useful  man,  and  a  most  excellent  citizen  !! 

In  what  then  does  the  law  between  state  and»>  state  differ 
from  that  between  man  and  man  ?  For  hitherto  we  seem  to 
have  discovered  no  variation.  The  law  of  nations  is  the  law  of 
common  honestj^,  modified  by  the  circumstances  in  which  States 
differ  from  individuals.  According  to  the  friend's  best  un- 
derstanding, the  differences  may  be  reduced  to  this  one  point: 
that  the  influences  of  example  in  any  extraordinary  case,  as  the 
possible  occasion  of  an  action  apparently  like,  though  in  real- 

*  Well,  and  in  the  spirit  of  genuine  philosophy,   does  the  poet  describe 
such  beings  as  men 

"  Who  being  innocent  do  for  that  cause 

Bestir  them  in  good  deeds" 

Wordsworth. 

Providence,  by  the  ceaseless  activity  which  it  has  implanted  in  our  natui-e, 
baa  sufficiently  guarded  against  an  innocence  without  virtue. 


262 

itj  very  different,  is  of  considerable  importance  in  the  moral 
calculations  of  an  individual ;  but  of  little,  if  any,  in  those  of 
a  nation.  The  reasons  are  evident.  In  the  first  place,  in 
cases  concerning  which  there  can  be  any  dispute  between  an 
honest  man  and  a  true  patriot,  the  circumstances,  w^hich  at  once 
authorize  and  discriminate  the  measure,  are  so  marked  and 
peculiar  and  notorious,  that  it  is  incapable  of  being  drawn  into 
a  precedent  by  any  other  state  under  dissimilar  circumstances  ; 
except  perhaps  as  a  mere  pretext  for  an  action,  w'hich  had  been 
predetermined  without  reference  to  this  authority,  and  which 
would  have  taken  place,  though  it  had  never  existed.  But  if 
so  strange  a  thing  shovJd  happen,  as  a  second  coincidence  of 
the  same  circumstances,  or  of  circumstances  sulBciently  similar 
to  render  the  prior  measure  a  fair  precedent ;  then  if  the  one 
action  was  justifiable,  so  will  the  other  be  ;  and  without  any 
reference  to  the  former,  which  in  this  case  may  be  useful  as  a 
light,  but  cannot  be  requisite  as  an  authority.  Secondly,  in 
extraordinary  cases  it  is  ridiculous  to  suppose  that  the  conduct 
of  states  will  be  determined  by  example.  We  know  that  they 
neither  will,  nor  in  the  nature  of  things  can  be  determined  by 
any  other  consideration  but  that  of  the  imperious  circumstances 
which  render  a  particular  measure  advisable.  But  lastly,  and 
more  important  than  ail,  individuals  are  and  must  be  under  po- 
sitive laws  :  and  so  very  great  is  the  advantage  which  results 
from  the  regularity  of  legal  decisions,  and  their  consequent  ca- 
pability of  being  foreicnown  and  relied  upon,  that  equity  itself 
must  sometimes  be  sacrified  to  it.  For  the  very  letter  of  a 
positive  law  is  part  of  its  spirit.  But  states  neither  are,  nor 
can  be,  under  positive  laws.  The  only  fixed  part  of  the  law 
of  nations  is  the  spirit :  the  letter  of  the  law  consists  wholly  in 
the  circumstances  to  w^hich  the  spirit  of  the  law  is  applied.  It 
is  mere  puerile  declamation  to  rail  against  a  country,  as  having 
imitated  the  very  measures  for  which  it  had  most  blamed  its 
ambitious  enemy,  i:  that  enemy  had  previously  changed  all  the 
relative  circumstr.nces  which  had  existed  for  hhrij  and  there- 
fore rendered  his  conduct  iniquitous  ;  but  w'hich,  having  been 
remove^i,  how^ever  iniquitously,  cannot  without  absurdity  be 
supposed  any  longer  to  control  the  measures  of  an  innocent 
nation,  necessitated  to  struggle  for  its  own  safety  :  especially 
when  the  measures  in  question  w  ere  adopted  for  the  very  pur- 
pose of  restoring  those  circumstances. 


263 

There  are  times  when  it  would  be  wise  to  regard  patriotism 
as  a  light  that  is  in  danger  of  being  blown  out,  rather  than  as 
a  fire  which  needs  to  be  fanned  by  the  winds  of  party  spirit. 
There  are  times  when  party  spirit,  without  any  unwonted  ex- 
cess, may  yet  become  faction ;  and  though  in  general  not  less 
useful  than  natural  in  a  free  government,  may  under  particular 
emergencies  prove  fatal  to  freedom  itself.  I  trust  I  am  writing 
to  those  who  think  with  me,  that  to  have  blackened  a  ministry, 
however  strong  or  rational  our  dislike  may  be  of  the  persons 
who  compose  it,  is  a  poor  excuse  and  a  miserable  compensation 
for  the  crime  of  unnecessarily  blackening  the  character  of  our 
country.  Under  this  conviction,  I  request  my  reader  to  cast 
his  eye  back  on  my  last  argument,  and  then  to  favor  me  with 
his  patient  attention  while  I  attempt  at  once  to  explain  its  pur- 
port and  to  shew  its  cogency. 

Let  us  transport  ourselves  in  fancy  to  the  age  and  country 
of  the  Patriarchs,  or,  if  the  reader  prefers  it,  to  some  small 
colony  uninfluenced  by  the  mother  country,  which  has  not  or- 
ganized itself  into  a  state,  or  agreed  to  acknowledge  any  one  par- 
ticular governor.  We  will  suppose  this  colony  to  consist  of  from 
twenty  to  thirt}"  households  or  separate  establishments,  differing 
greatly  from  each  other  in  the  number  of  retainers  and  in  ex- 
tent of  possessions.  Each  household,  however,  possesses  its 
own  domain,  the  least  equally  with  the  greatest,  in  full  right ; 
and  its  master  is  an  independent  sovereign  wuthin  his  own  boun- 
daries. This  mutual  understanding  and  tacit  agreement  we 
may  well  suppose  to  have  been  the  gradual  result  of  many  feuds, 
which  had  produced  misery  to  all  and  real  advantage  to  none  : 
and  that  the  same  sober  and  reflecting  persons,  dispersed  through 
the  different  establishments,  who  had  brought  about  this  state  of 
things,  had  likewise  coincided  in  the  propriety  of  some  other 
prudent  and  humane  regulations,  whicii  from  the  authority  of 
these  wise  men  on  points,  in  which  they  were  unanimous,  and 
from  the  evident  good  sense  of  the  rules  themselves,  were  ac- 
knowledged throughout  the  whole  colony,  though  they  were 
never  voted  into  a  formal  law,  though  the  determination  of  the 
cases,  to  which  these  rules  were  applicable,  had  not  been  en- 
trusted to  any  recognized  judge,  nor  their  enforcement  delega- 
ted to  any  particular  magistrate.  Of  these  virtual  laws  this, 
we  may  safely  conclude,  would  be  the  chief:  that  as  no  man 
ought  to  interfere  in  the  affairs  of  another  against  his  will,  so  if 


S64 

any  master  of  a  household,  instead  of  occupying  himself  with 
the  improvement  of  his  own  fields  and  flocks,  or  with  the  bet- 
ter regulation  of  his  own  establishment,  should  be  foolish  and 
wicked  enough  to  employ  his  children  and  servants  in  breaking 
down  the  fences  and  taking  possession  of  the  lands  and  pro- 
perty of  a  fellow-colonist,  or  in  turning  the  head  of  the  family 
out  of  his  house,  and  forcing  those  that  remained  to  acknow- 
ledge himself  as  their  governor  instead,  and  to  obey  whomever 
he  might  please  to  appoint  as  his  deputy — that  it  then  became 
the  duty  and  interest  of  the  other  colonists  to  join  against  the 
aggressor,  and  to  do  all  in  their  power  to  prevent  him  from 
accomplishing  his  bad  purposes,  or  to  compel  him  to  make 
restitution  and  compensation.  The  mightier  the  aggressor,  and 
the  weaker  the  injured  party,  the  more  cogent  would  the  mo- 
tive become  for  restraining  the  one  and  protecting  the  other. 
For  it  was  plain  that  he  who  was  suffered  to  overpower,  one  by 
one,  the  "weaker  proprietors,  and  render  the  members  of  their 
establishment  subservient  to  his  will,  must  soon  become  an 
overmatch  for  those  who  were  formerly  his  equals  :  and  the 
mightiest  would  dilTer  from  the  the  meanest  only  by  being  the 
last  victim. 

This  allegoric  fable  faithfully  pourtrays  the  law  of  nations 
and  the  balance  of  power  among  the  European  states.  Let  us 
proceed  with  it  in  the  form  of  History.  In  the  second  or  third 
generation  the  proprietors  too  generally  disregarded  the  good 
old  opinion,  that  what  injured  any  could  be  real  advantage  to 
none  ;  and  treated  those,  who  still  professed  it,  as  fit  only  to 
instruct  children  in  their  catechism.  Ry  the  avarice  of  some, 
the  cowardice  of  others,  and  by  the  corruption  and  want  of 
foresight  in  the  greater  part,  the  former  state  of  things  had 
been  completely  changed,  and  the  tacit  compact  set  at  nought 
the  general  acknowledgment  of  which  had  been  so  instrumen- 
tal in  producing  this  state  and  in  preserving  it,  as  long  as  it 
lasted.  The  stronger  had  preyed  on  the  weaker,  whose  wrongs, 
however,  did  not  remain  long  unavenged.  For  the  same  sel- 
fishness and  blindness  to  the  future,  which  had  induced  the 
wealthy  to  trample  on  the  rights  of  the  poorer  proprietors,  pre- 
vented them  from  assisting  each  other  efTeetually,  when  they 
were  themselves  attacked,  one  after  the  other,  by  the  most 
powerful  of  all :  and  from  a  concurrence  of  circumstances  at- 
tacked so  successfully,  that  of  the  whole  colony  few  remained, 


265 

that  were  not,  directly  or  indirectly,  the  creatures  and  depen- 
dents of  one  overgrown  establishment.  Say  rather,  of  its  new 
master,  an  adventurer  w'hom  chance  and  poverty  had  brought 
thither,  and  who  in  better  times  would  have  been  employed  in 
the  swine-yard,  or  the  slaughter-house,  from  his  moody  tem- 
per and  his  aversion  to  all  tlie  Arts  that  tended  to  improve  either 
the  land  or  those  that  were  to  be  maintained  by  its  produce. 
He  was  however  eminent  for  other  qualities,  which  w^ere  still 
better  suited  to  promote  his  power  among  those  degenerate  co- 
lonists: for  he  feared  neither  God  nor  his  own  conscience.  The 
most  solemn  oaths  could  not  bind  him  ;  the  most  deplorable  ca- 
lamities could  not  awaken  his  pity  ;  and  when  others  were 
asleep,  he  was  eitlier  brooding  over  some  scheme  of  robbery 
and  murder,  or  with  a  part  of  his  banditti  actually  employed  in 
laying  waste  his  neighbor's  fences,  or  in  undermining  the  walls 
of  their  houses.  His  natural  cunning,  undistracted  by  any  honest 
avocations,  and  meeting  with  no  obstacle  either  in  his  head  or 
heart,  and  above  all,  having  been  quickened  and  strengthened 
by  constant  practice  and  favored  by  the  times  w  ith  all  conceiva- 
ble opportunities,  ripened  at  last  into  a  surprising  genius  for  op- 
pression and  tyranny  :  and,  as  we  must  distinguish  him  by  some 
name  we  will  call  him  Misetes.  The  only  estate,  which  remain- 
ed able  to  bid  defiance  to  this  common  enemy,  was  that  of  Pam- 
PHiLus,  superior  to  Misetes  in  wealth,  and  his  equal  in  strength  ; 
though  not  in  the  power  of  doing  mischief,  and  still  less  in  the 
wish.  Their  characters  were  indeed  perfectly  contrasted  :  for 
it  may  be  truly  said,  that  throughout  the  wliole  colony  there  was 
not  a  single  establishment  which  did  not  owe  some  of  its  best 
buildings,  the  increased  produce  of  its  fields,  its  improved  im- 
plements of  industry,  and  the  general  more  decent  appearance 
of  its  members,  to  the  information  given  and  the  encourage- 
ments afforded  by  Pamphilus  and  those  of  his  household.  Who- 
ever raised  more  than  they  wanted  for  their  own  establishment, 
were  sure  to  find  a  ready  purchaser  in  Pamphilns,  and  often- 
times for  articles  which  they  had  themselves  been  before  accus- 
tomed to  regard  as  worthless,  or  even  as  nuisances  :  they  recei- 
ved in  return  things  necessary  or  agreeable,  and  always  in  one  re- 
spect at  least  useful,  that  they  roused  the  purchaser  to  industry 
and  its  accompanying  virtues.  In  this  intercommunionall  were 
benefited  :  for  the  wealth  of  Pamphilus  was  increased  by  the  in- 
creasing industrv  of  his  fellow-colonists,  and  their  industry  need- 
34 


266 

ed  the  support  and  encouraging  influences  of  Pamphilus's  capital. 
To  this  good  man  and  his  estimable  household  Misetes  bore  the 
most  implacable  hatred,  and  had  publicly  sworn  that  he  would 
root  him  out ;  the  only  sort  of  oath  which  he  was  not  likely  to 
break  by  any  want  of  will  or  effort  on  his  own  part.  But  for- 
tunately for  Pamphilus,  his  main  property  consisted  of  one  com- 
pact estate  divided  from  Misetes  and  the  rest  of  the  colony  by  a 
wide  and  dangerous  river,  with  the  exception  of  one  small 
plantation  which  belonged  to  an  independent  proprietor  whom 
we  will  name  Lathrodacnus  :  a  man  of  no  influence  in  the 
colony,  but  much  respected  by  Pamphilus.  They  were  indeed 
relations  by  blood  originally  and  afterwards  by  intermarriages  ; 
and  it  was  to  the  power  and  protection  of  Pajnphilus  that 
Lathrodacnus  o\ied  his  independence  and  prosperity,  amid  the 
general  distress  and  slavery  of  the  other  proprietors.  Not  less 
fortunately  did  it  happen,  that  the  means  of  passing  the  river 
were  possessed  exclusively  by  Pamphilus  and  his  above  men- 
tioned kinsman  ;  and  not  only  the  boats  themselves,  but  all  the 
means  of  constructing  and  navigating  them.  As  the  very  ex- 
istence of  Lathrodacnus,  as  an  independent  colonist,  had  no 
solid  ground,  but  in  the  strength  and  prosperity  of  Pamphilus  ; 
and  as  the  interests  of  the  one  in  no  respect  interfered  with 
those  of  the  other;  Pamphilus  for  a  considerable  time  remained 
without  any  anxiety,  and  looked  on  the  river-craft  of  Lathro- 
dacnus with  as  little  alarm,  as  on  those  of  his  own  establishment. 
It  did  not  disquiet  him,  that  Lathrodacnus  had  remained  neutral 
in  the  quarrel.  Nay,  though  many  advantages,  which  in  peace- 
ful times  would  have  belonged  to  Pamphilus,  were  now  trans- 
ferred to  his  Neighbor,  and  had  more  than  doubled  the  extent 
and  profit  of  his  concern,  Pamphilus,  instead  of  repining  at  this, 
was  glad  that  some  good  at  least  to  some  one  came  out  of  the 
general  evil.  Great  then  was  his  surprise,  when  he  discover- 
ed, that  without  any  conceivable  reason  Lathrodacnus  had  em- 
ployed himself  in  building  and  collecting  a  very  unusual  num- 
ber of  such  boats,  as  were  of  no  use  to  him  in  his  traffic,  but 
designed  exclusively  as  ferry-boats :  and  what  was  still  stran- 
ger and  more  alarming,  that  he  chose  to  keep  these  in  a  bay 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  opposite  to  the  one  small  plant- 
ation, along  side  of  Pamphilus'  estate,  from  which  plantation 
Lathrodacnus  derived  the  materials  for  building  them.  Willing 
to  believe  this  conduct  a  transient  whim  of  his  neighbor's,  oc- 


267 

casioned  partly   by  his   vanity,  and   partly  by   envy  ( to  which 
latter  passion  the  want  of  liberal   education,  and   the  not  suffi- 
ciently comprehending  the  g'ounds  of  his  own  prosperity,  had 
rendered  hun  subject)  Paniphilus  contented  himself  for  awhile 
with   urgent  yet   friendly  remonstrances.     The  only   answer, 
which  Lathrodacnus  vouchsafed  to  return,  was,  that  by  the  law 
of  the  colony,  which  Pamphilus  had  made  so  many  professions 
of  revering,   every  proprietor  was   an  independent  sovereign 
within  his  own  boundaries  ;  that  the  boats  were  his  own,  and 
the  opposite  shore,  to  which  they  were  fastened,  part  of  a  field 
which  belonged  to  him  ;  and,  in  short,  that   Pamphilus  had  no 
right  to  interfere  with  the  management  of  his  property',  which, 
trifling  as  it  might  be,   compared  with  that   of  Pamphilus,  was 
no  less  sacred  by  the  law  of  the  colony.     To  this  uncourteous 
rebuff  Pamphilus  replied  with  a  fervent  wish,  that  Lathrodacnus 
could  with  more  propriety  have  appealed  to  a  law,  as  still  sub- 
sisting, which,  he  well  knew,  had  been  effectually  annulled  by 
the  unex-^mpled  tyranny  and  success  of  Misetes,  together  wi;h 
the  circumstances  which    had  given    occasion    to   the   h.w,  and 
made  it  wise  and  practicable.     He  further  urged,  that  this  law 
was  not  made  for  the  benefit  of  any  one  man,  but  for  the  common 
safety  and  advantage  of  all :  that  it  was  absurd  to  suppose  that 
either  he  (Pamphilus)   or   that   Lathrodacnus   himself,  or   any 
other  proprietor,  ever  did  or  could  acknowledge  this  law  in  the 
sense  that  it  was  to  survive  the  very  circumstances,  of  which 
it  was  the  mere  reflex.     Much  less  could  they  have  even  tacitly 
assented  to  it,  if  they  had  ever  understood  it  as  authorizing  one 
neighbor  to   endanger  the   absolute  ruin   of  another,   who  had 
perhaps  fifty  times  the  property  to  lose,  and  perhaps  ten  times 
the  number  of  souls  to  answer  for,  and   yet  forbidding  the  in- 
jured person  to  take  any  steps  in  his  own  defence  ;  and  lastly, 
that  this   law    gave  no  right   without   imposing  a  corresponding 
duty.     Therefore  if  Lathrodacnus  insisted  on  the  rights  given 
him  by  the  law,  he  ought  at  the  same  time  to  perform  the  duties 
which  it  required,  and  join  heart  and  hand  with  Pamphilus  in 
his  endeavors  to  defend  his  independence,  to  restore  the  former 
state  of  the  colony,  and  with  this  to   re-enforce   the  old  law  in 
opposition  to  Misetes  who   had  enslaved   the   one   and  set  at 
nought  the  other.     So   ardently  was  Pamphilus  attached  to  the 
law,  that  excepting  his  own  safety  and  independence  there  was 
no  price  which  he  would  not  pay,  no  sacrifice  which  he  would 


268 

not  make  for  its  restoration.  His  reverence  for  the  very  me- 
morj'  of  the  law  was  such,  that  the  mere  appearance  of  trans- 
gressing it  would  be  a  heavy  affliction  to  him.  In  hope  there- 
fore of  gaining  from  the  avarice  of  Lathrodacnus  that  consent 
which  he  could  not  obtain  from  his  justice  or  neighborly  kind- 
ness, he  offered  to  give  him  in  full  right  a  plantation  ten  times 
the  value  of  all  his  boats,  and  yet,  whenever  the  colony  should 
once  more  be  settled,  to  restore  the  boats:  if  he  would  only 
permit  Pamphilus  to  secure  them  during  the  present  state  of 
things,  on  his  side  of  the  river,  retaining  whatever  he  really 
wanted  for  the  passage  of  his  own  household.  To  all  these  per- 
suasions and  entreaties  Lathrodacnus  turned  a  deaf  ear ;  and 
Pamphilus  remained  agitated  and  undetermined,  till  at  length 
he  received  certain  intelligence  that  Lathrodacnus  had  called  a 
council  of  the  chief  members  of  his  establishment,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  threats  of  Misetes,  that  he  would  treat  him  as 
the  friend  and  ally  of  Pamphilus,  if  he  did  not  declare  himself 
his  enemy.  Partly  for  the  sake  of  a  large  meadow  belonging 
to  him  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  which  it  was  not  easy  to 
secure  from  the  tyrant,  but  still  more  from  envy  and  the  irrita- 
ble temper  of  a  proud  inferior,  Lathrodacnus,  and  with  him  the 
majority  of  his  advisers  (though  to  the  great  discontent  of  the 
few  wise  heads  among  them)  settled  it  finally  that  if  he  should 
be  again  pressed  on  this  point  by  Misetes,  he  would  join  him 
and  commence  hostilities  against  his  old  neighbor  and  kinsman. 
It  is  indeed  but  too  probable  that  he  had  long  brooded  over  this 
scheme  :  for  to  what  other  end  could  he  have  strained  his  in- 
come, and  over-worked  his  servants  in  building  and  fitting  up 
such  a  number  of  passage-boats  ?  As  soon  as  this  information 
was  received  by  Pamphilus,  and  this  from  a  quarter  which  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  discredit,  he  obeyed  the  dictates  of 
self-preservation,  took  possession  of  the  passage-boats  by  force, 
and  brought  them  over  to  his  own  grounds  ;  but  without  any  fur- 
ther injury  to  Lathrodacnus,  and  still  urging  him  to  accept  a  com- 
pensation and  continue  in  that  amity  which  was  so  manifestly 
their  common  interest.  Instantly  a  great  outcry  was  raised 
against  Pamphilus,  who  was  charged  in  the  bitterest  terms  with 
having  first  abused  Misetes,  and  then  imitated  him  in  his  worst 
acts  of  violence.  In  the  calmness  of  a  good  conscience  Pam- 
philus contented  himself  with  the  following  reply  :  "Even  so, 
if  I  were  out  on  a  shooting  party  with  a  quaker  for  my  com- 


269 

panion,  and  saw  coming  on  towards  us  an  old  footpad  and 
murderer,  who  had  made  known  his  intention  of  killing  me 
wherever  he  might  meet  me  ;  and  if  mj  companion  the  Quaker 
would  neither  give  me  up  his  gun,  nor  even  discharge  it  as  (we 
will  suppose)  I  had  just  before  unfortuatelj  discharged  my  own  ; 
U  he  would  neither  promise  to  assist  me  nor  even  promise  to 
make  the  least  resistance  to  the  robber's  attempt  to  disarm  him- 
self; you  might  call  me  a  robber  for  wresting  this  gun  from 
my  companion,  though  for  no  other  purpose  but  that  I  might  at 
least  do  for  by  myself,  what  he  ought  to  have  done,  but  would 
not  do  either  for  or  with  me  !  Even  so,  and  as  plausibly,  you 
might  exclaim,  0  the  hypocrite  Pamphilus !  Who  has  not  been 
deafened  with  his  complaints  against  robbers  and  footpads  ? 
and  lo !  he  himself  has  turned  footpad,  and  commenced  by  rob- 
bing his  peaceful  and  unsuspecting  companion  of  his  double- 
barrelled  gun  !"  It  is  the  business  of  The  Friend  to  lay  down 
principles  not  to  make  the  applications  of  them  to  particular, 
much  less  to  recent  cases.  If  any  such  there  be  to  which  these 
principles  are  faiily  applicable,  the  reader  is  no  less  master  of 
the  facts  than  the  Writer  of  the  present  Essay.  If  not,  the 
principles  remain  ;  and  The  Friend  has  finished  the  task  which 
the  plan  of  his  work  imposed  on  him,  of  proving  the  identity 
of  international  law  and  the  law  of  morality  in  spirit,  and  the 
reasons  of  their  difference  in  practice,  in  those  extreme  cases 
in  which  alone  they  have  been  allowed  to  differ. 


POSTSCRIPT. 
The  preceding  Essay  has  more  than  its  natural  interest  for  the 
author  from  the  abuse,  which  it  brought  down  on  him  as  the 
defender  of  the  attack  on  Copenhagen,  and  the  seizure  of  the 
Danish  fleet.  The  odium  of  the  measure  rested  wholly  on  the 
commencement  of  hostilities  without  a  previous  proclamation 
of  war.  Now  it  is  remarkable,  that  in  a  work  published  m.any 
years  before  this  event  Professor  Beck  had  made  this  very 
point  the  subject  of  a  particular  chapter  in  his  admirable  Com- 
ments on  the  Law  of  Nations  :  and  every  one  of  the  circum- 
stances stated  by  him  as  forming  an  except  to  the  moral  ne- 
cessity of  previous  proclamation  of  war,  concurred  in  the  Co- 
penhagen expedition.  I  need  mention  two  only.  First  by  the 
act  or  acts,  which  provoked  the  expedition,  the  party  attacked 


270 

had  knowingly  placed  himself  in  a  state  of  war.  Let  A  stand 
for  the  Danish,  B  for  the  British,  government.  A  had  done 
thiit  which  he  himself  was  fully  aware  would  produce  immedi- 
ate hostilities  on  the  part  of  B,  the  moment  it  came  to  the 
knowledge  oi  the  latter.  T.ie  act  itse  f  was  a  waging  of  war 
agaiiist  B  on  the  part  of  A.  B  therefore  was  the  party  attack- 
ed :  and  conuiion  sense  dictates,  that  to  resist  and  batlle  an  ag- 
gression requires  no  proclamation  to  justify  it.  I  perceived  a 
dagger  aimed  at  my  back,  in  consequence  of  a  warning  given 
me,  just  time  enough  to  prevent  the  blow,  knock  the  assassin 
down,  and  disarm  him  :  and  he  reproaches  me  with  treachery, 
because  forsooth  I  had  not  sent  him  a  challenge  !  Secondly, 
when  the  object  which  justifies  and  necessitates  the  war  would 
be  frustrated  by  the  proclamation.  For  neither  State  or  Indi- 
vidual can  be  presumed  to  have  given  either  a  formal  or  a  tacit 
assent  to  any  such  modification  of  a  positive  Right,  as  would 
suspend  and  virtually  annul  the  Right  itself:  the  Right  of  self- 
preservation,  for  instance.  This  second  exception  will  often 
depend  on  the  existence  of  the  first,  and  must  alv  ays  receive 
additional  strength  and  clearness  from  it.  That  both  of  these 
exceptions  appertained  to  the  case  in  question,  is  now  notori- 
ous. But  at  the  time  I  found  it  necessary  to  publish  the  fol- 
lowing comment,  which  1  adapt  to  the  present  rifacciamento 
of  The  Friend,  as  illustrative  of  the  fundamental  principle  of 
public  justice  ;  viz.  that  personal  and  national  morality,  ever 
one  and  the  same,  dictate  the  same  measures  under  the  same 
circumstances,  and  different  measures  only  as  far  as  the  circum- 
stances are  dilferent. 

As  my  limits  will  not  allow  me  to  do  more  in  the  second,  or 
ethical  section  of  The  Friend,  than  to  propose  and  deveiope  my 
own  system,  without  controverting  the  systems  of  others,  I  shall 
thereibre  devote  the  Essay,  which  follows  this  Postscript,  to 
the  consideration  of  the  problem  :  How  far  is  the  moral  na- 
ture of  an  ac*^ion  constituted  by  its  individual  circumstances? 

It  was  once  said  to  me,  when  the  Copenhagen  atfair  was  in 
dispute,  "Vou  do  not  see  the  enormity,  because  it  is  an  affair 
between  state  and  state  :  conceive  a  similar  case  between  man 
and  man,  and  you  would  both  see  and  abhor  it."  Now,  I  was 
neither  defending  or  attacking  the  measure  itself.  My  aigu- 
ments  were  confined  to  the  grounds  which  had  been  taken 
both  in  the  arraigning  of  that  measure  and  in  its  defence,  be- 


271 

cause  I   thought  both   equally  untenable.     I   was  not   enough 
master  of  facts  to  form  a  decisi/e   opinion   on   the  enterprize, 
even  for  my  own  mind  ;    but  I  iiad   no  hesitation   in  affirming, 
that  the  principles^  on  which  it  was  defended  in  the  legislature, 
appeared  to  me  fitter  objects  of  indignant  reprobation  than  the 
act  itself.     This  having  been  premised,  I  replied  to  the  asser- 
tion above  stated,  by  asserting   the   direct   contrary  :    namely, 
that  were  a  similar  case  conceived  between  man  and  man,  the 
severest  arraigners  of  the  measure,  would,  on  their  grounds, 
find  notbing  to  blame  in  it.     How  was  I  to  prove  this  assertion  ? 
Clearly,  by  imagining  some  case  between  individuals  living  in 
the  same   relations   toward   each    other,   in    which    the    several 
states  of  Europe  exist  or  existed.     My  allegory,  therefore,  so 
far  fiom  being  a  disguise,  was  a  necessary  part  of  the  main  ar- 
gument, a  case  in  pointy  to  prove  the  identity  of  the  law  of 
nations  with  the  law  of  conscience.     We  have  only  to  conceive 
individuals  in  the   same    relations  as  states,  in  order  to  learn 
that  the    rules   emanating   from    international   law,   differ   fron> 
those  of  private  honesty,  solely  through   the   difTerence  of  the 
circumstances. 

But  why  did  not  the  Friend  avow  the  application  of  the 
principle  to  the  seizure  of  t!ie  Danish  fleet !  Because  I  did 
not  possess  sufficient  evidence  to  prove  to  others,  or  even  to 
decide  for  myself,  that  my  principle  was  applicable  to  tliis  par- 
ticular act.  In  (he  case  of  Pamphilus  and  Lathrodacnus,  the 
prudence  and  necessity  of  the  measure  was  certain  ;  and,  this 
taken  for  granted,  I  shewed  its  perfect  rightfulness.  In  the 
affair  of  Copenhagen,  1  had  no  doubt  of  our  right  to  do  as  we 
did,  supposing  the  necessity,  or  at  least  the  extreme  prudence 
of  the  measure  ;  taking  for  granted  that  there  existed  a  mo- 
tive adequate  to  the  action,  and  that  the  action  was  an  ade- 
quate means  of  realizing  the  motive. 

But  this  I  was  not  authorized  to  take  for  granted  in  the  real, 
as  I  had  been  in  the  imaginary  case.  I  saw  many  reasons  for  the 
affirmative,  and  many  for  the  negative.  For  the  former,  the 
certainty  of  an  hostile  design  on  the  part  of  the  Danes,  the 
alarming  state  of  Ireland,  that  vulnerable  heel  of  the  British 
Achilles  !  and  the  immense  dilference  between  military  and  na- 
val superiority.  Our  naval  power  collectively  might  have  defi- 
ed that  of  the  whole  world  ;  but  it  was  widely  scattered,  and  a 
combined  operation  from  the  Baltic,  Holland,  Brest,  and  Lisbon, 


272 

might  easily  bring  together  a  fleet  double  to  that  which  we  could 
have  brought  against  it  during  the  short  time  that  might  be  ne- 
cessary to  convey  thirty  or  forty  thousand  men  to  Ireland.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  seemed  equally  clear  that  Buonaparte  needed 
sailors  rather  than  ships  ;  and  that  we  took  the  ships  and  left 
him  the  Danish  sailors,  whose  presence  in  the  fleet  at  Antwerp 
turned  the  scale,  perhaps,  in  favor  of  the  worse  than  disastrous 
expedition  to  Waleheren. 

But  I  repeat,  that  the  Friend  had  no  concern  with  the  mea- 
sure itself;  but  only  with  the  grounds  or  principles  on  which 
it  had  been  attacked  or  defended.  Those  who  attacked  it  de- 
clared that  a  right  had  been  violated  by  us,  and  that  no  motive 
could  justify  such  violation,  however  imperious  tbat  motive 
might  be.  In  opposition  to  such  reasoners,  I  proved  that  no 
such  right  existed,  or  is  deducible  either  from  international  law 
or  the  law  of  private  morality.  Those  again  who  defended  the 
seizure  of  the  Danish  fleet,  conceded  that  it  was  a  violation  of 
right;  but  aifirmed,  that  such  violation  was  justified  by  the 
urgency  of  Ihe  motive.  It  was  asserted  (as  I  have  before  no- 
ticed in  the  introduction  to  the  subject)  that  national  policy 
cannot  in  all  cases  be  subordinated  to  the  laws  of  morality  ;  in 
in  other  words,  that  a  government  may  act  with  injustice,  and 
yet  remain  blameless.  To  prove  this  assertion  as  groundless 
and  unnecessary  as  it  is  tremendous,  formed  the  chief  object  of 
the  whole  disquisition.  I  trust  then,  that  my  candid  judges 
will  rest  satisfied  that  it  is  not  only  the  profession  and  pretext 
of  The  Friend,  but  his  constant  plan  and  actual  intention,  to 
establish  Principles  ;  that  he  refers  to  particular  facts  for  no 
other  purpose  than  that  of  giving  illustration  and  interest  to 
those  principles  ;  and  that  to  invent  principles  with  a  view  to 
particular  cases,  whether  with  the  motive  of  attacking  or  ar- 
raigning a  transitory  cabinet,  is  a  baseness  which  will  scarcely 
be  attributed  to  the  The  Friend  by  any  one  who  understands 
the  work,  even  though  the  suspicion  should  not  have  been  pre- 
cluded by  a  knowledge  of  the  author. 


ESSAY    XI. 


Ja,  ich  bin  der  Atheist  unci  Gottlose,  der  einer  imaginaren  Berechnungslehre, 
einer  blosen  Einbildiing  von  allgemeinen  Folgen,  die  nie  folgen  konnen, 
zuwider — lugen  will,  wie  Desdemoxa  sterbend  log ;  lagenundbetriigen  will, 
wie  der  fur  Orest  sich  darstellende  Pylades  ;  Tenipelraub  uuternehmen, 
i^ie  David  ;  ja,  Aehren  ausraiifen  am  Sabbath,  audi  nur  darum,  weil  niich 
liungert,  und  das  Gesetz  um  des  menschen  ivillen  gemacht  ist,  nicht  der  Mensch 
urn  des  Gezctzes  ivillen.  Jacobi   an  Fichte. 

Translation. — Yes,  I  am  that  Atheist,  that  godless  person,  who  in  opposition 
to  an  imaginary  Doctrine  of  Calculation,  to  a  mere  ideal  Fabric  of  gen- 
eral Consequences,  that  can  never  be  realized,  would  lie,  as  the  dying  Des- 
DEMONA  lied;*  lie  and  deceive  as  Pylades  wiien  he  pei'sonated  Orestes; 
would  commit  sacrilege  \vith  David  ;  yea  and  pluck  eare  of  corn  on  the 
Sabbath,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  I  was  fiiinting  from  lack  of  food, 
and  that  the  Law  ivas  made  for  Man  and  not  Man  for  the  Law. 

Jacobi's  letter  to  Fichte. 


If  there  be  no  better  doctrine,  I  would  add  — Much  and  of- 
ten have  I  suffered  from  having  ventured  to  avow  ray  doubts 
concerning  the  truth  of  certain  opinions,  which  had  been  sanc- 
tified in  the  minds  of  many  hearers,  by  the  authority  of  some 
reigning  great  name  ;  even  though  in  addition  to  my  own  rea- 
sons, I  had  all  the  greatest  names  from  the    Reformation  to  the 

*  (Emilia. — O  who  hath  done 
This  deed  ? 

Desd.  Nobody.     I  myself.     Farewell. 

Commend  me  to  my  kind  Lord. — O — farewell. 

Othello. — You  heard  her  say  yourself,  It  was  not  I. 

(Emilia. — She  said  so.     I  must  needs  report  the  truth. 

Othello. — She's  like  a  liar  gone  to  burning  hell ! 
'TwasI  that  killed  her ! 

(Emilia. — The  more  angel  she! 

35 


274 

Revolution  on  ray  side.  I  could  not,  therefore,  summon  cour- 
age, without  some  previous  pioneering,  to  declare  publicly,  that 
the  principles  of  morality  taught  in  the  present  work  will  be 
in  direct  opposition  to  the  system  of  the  late  Dr.  Paley.  This 
confession  I  should  have  deferred  to  future  time,  if  my  opin- 
ions on  the  grounds  of  international  morality  had  not  been  con- 
tradictory to  a  fundamental  point  in  Paley's  System  of  moral 
and  political  Philosophy.  I  mean  that  chapter  which  treats  of 
GENERAL,  CONSEQUENCES,  as  the  chicf  and  best  criterion  of  the 
right  or  wrong  of  particular  actions.  Now  this  doctrine  I  con- 
ceive to  be  neither  tenable  in  reason  nor  safe  in  practice  :  and 
the  following  are  the  grounds  of  my  opinion. 

First ;  this  criterion  is  purely  ideal,  and  so  far  possesses  no 
advantages  over  the  former  systems  of  Morality  :  while  it  la- 
bours under  defects,  with  which  those  are  not  justly  chargea- 
ble. It  is  ideal :  for  it  depends  on,  and  must  vary  with,  the 
notions  of  the  individual,  who  in  order  to  determine  the  nature 
of  an  action  is  to  make  the  calculation  of  its  general  conse- 
quences. Here,  as  in  all  other  calculation,  the  result  depends 
on  that  faculty  of  the  soul  in  the  degrees  of  which  men  most 
vary  from  each  other,  and  which  is  itself  most  affected  by  acci- 
dental advantages  or  disadvantages  of  education,  natural  tal- 
ent, and  acquired  knowledge — the  faculty,  I  mean,  of  foresight 
and  systematic  comprehension.  But  surely  morality,  which  is 
of  equal  importance  to  all  men,  ought  to  be  grounded,  if  pos- 
sible, in  that  part  of  our  nature  which  in  all  men  may  and 
ought  to  be  the  same  :  in  the  conscience  and  the  common 
sense.  Secondly  :  this  criterion  confounds  morality  with  law  ; 
and  when  the  author  adds,  that  in  all  probability  the  divine 
Justice  will  be  regulated  in  the  final  judgment  by  a  similar 
rule,  he  draws  away  the  attention  from  the  will,  that  is,  from 
the  inward  motives  and  impulses  which  constitute  the  essence 
of  morality,  to  the  outward  act :  and  thus  changes  the  virtue 
commanded  by  the  gospel  into  the  mere  legality,  which  was 
to  be  enlivened  by  it.  One  of  the  most  persuasive,  if  not  one 
of  the  strongest,  arguments  for  a  future  state,  rests  on  the  be- 
lief, that  although  by  the  necessity  of  things  our  outward  and 
temporal  welfare  must  be  regulated  by  our  outward  actions, 
which  alone  can  be  the  objects  and  guides  of  human  law,  there 
must  yet  needs  come  a  juster  and  more  appropriate  sentence 
hereafter,  in  which  our  intentions  will  be  considered,  and  our 


275 

happiness  and  misery  made  to  accord  with  the  grounds  of  our 
actions.  Our  fellow-creatures  can  only  judge  what  we  are  by 
what  we  do  ;  but  in  the  eye  of  our  Maker  what  we  do  is  of 
no  worth,  except  as  it  flows  from  what  we  are.  Though  the 
fig-tree  should  produce  no  visible  fruit,  yet  if  the  living  sap  is 
in  it,  and  if  it  has  struggled  to  put  forth  buds  and  blossoms 
which  have  been  prevented  from  maturing  by  inevitable  con- 
tingencies of  tempests  or  untimely  frosts,  the  virtuous  sap  will 
be  accounted  as  fruit :  and  the  curse  of  barrenness  will  light 
on  many  a  tree,  from  the  boughs  of  which  hundreds  have  been 
satisfied,  because  the  omniscient  judge  knows  that  the  fruits 
were  threaded  to  the  boughs  artificially  by  the  outward  work- 
ing of  base  fear  and  selfish  hopes,  and  were  neither  nourished  by 
the  love  of  God  or  of  man,  nor  grew  out  of  the  graces  engraft- 
ed on  the  stock  by  religion.  This  is  not,  indeed,  all  that  is 
meant  in  the  apostle's  use  of  the  word,  faith,  as  the  sole  prin- 
ciple of  justification,  but  it  is  included  in  his  meaning  and  forms 
an  essential  part  of  it,  and  I  can  conceive  nothing  more  ground- 
less, than  the  alarm,  that  this  cloctrine  may  be  prejudicial  to 
outward  utility  and  active  well-doing.  To  suppose  that  a  man 
should  cease  to  be  beneficent  by  becoming  benevolent^  seems  to 
me  scarcely  less  absurd,  than  to  fear  that  a  fire  may  prevent 
heat,  or  that  a  perennial  fountain  may  prove  the  occasion  of 
drought.  Just  and  generous  actions  may  proceed  from  bad  mo- 
tives, and  both  may,  and  often  do,  originate  in  parts  and  as  it 
were  fragments  of  our  nature.  A  lascivious  man  may  sacri- 
fice half  his  estate  to  rescue  his  friend  from  prison,  for  he  is 
constitutionally  sympathetic,  and  the  better  part  of  his  nature 
happened  to  be  uppermost.  The  same  man  shall  afterwards 
exert  the  same  disregard  of  money  in  an  attempt  to  seduce  that 
friend's  wife  or  daughter.  But  faith  is  a  total  act  of  the  soul : 
it  is  the  whole  state  of  the  mind,  or  it  is  not  at  all !  and  in  this 
consists  its  power,  as  well  as  its  exclusive  worth. 

This  subject  is  of  such  immense  importance  to  the  welfare  of 
all  men,  and  the  understanding  of  it  to  the  present  tranquillity 
of  many  thousands  at  this  time  and  in  this  country,  that  should 
there  be  one  only  of  all  my  Readers,  who  should  receive  con- 
viction or  an  additional  light  from  what  is  here  written,  I  dare 
hope  that  a  great  majority  of  the  rest  would  in  consideration  of 
that  solitary  effect  think  these  paragraphs  neither  wholly  unin- 
teresting or  altogether  without  value.     For  this  cause  I  will 


276 

endeavor  so  to  explain  this  principle,  that  it  maybe  intelligible 
to  the  simplest  capacit}-.     The  apostle  tells  those  who  would  sub- 
stitute obedience  for  faith  (addressing  the  man  as  obedience  per- 
sonified) "  Know  that  thou  bearest  not  the  Root,  but  the  ROOT 
thee^'' — a  sentence  which,  methinks,  should  have   rendered  all 
disputes   concerning  faith   and   good  works  impossible   among 
those  who  profess  to  take  the   Scriptures  for  their   guide.     It 
would  appear  incredible,  if  the  fact   were  not  notorious,   that 
two  sects  should  ground  and  justify  their  opposition   to    each 
other,  the  one  on  the  words  of  the  apostle,  that  we  are  justified 
by  faith,  i.  e.  the   inward  and  absolute  ground  of  our  actions  ; 
and  the  other  on  tiie  declaration   of  Christ,  that   he  will  judge 
us  according  to  our  actions.     As  if  an    action   could   be  either 
good  or  bad  disjoined   from  its   principle  !  as  if  it  could    be,  in 
the  christian  a,:d  only  proper  sense  of  the    word,  an    action  at 
all,  and  not  rather  a  mechanic   series  of  lucky  or  unlucky  mo- 
tions !   Yet  ii  mr-j  be  well  worth  the  while   to  shew  the  beauty 
and  harmony  of  these  twin   truths,  or  rather  of  this  one  great 
truth  considered  in  iis  two  priir^ipal  bearings.     God  will  judge 
each  man  before  all  men  :   consequently  he  will  judge  us  rela- 
tively to  man.     But  man  knows  not  the  heart  of  man  ;  scarcely 
does  any  one  know  his  own.     There  must  therefore  be  outward 
and  visible  signs,  by  which  men  may  be  able  to  judge  of  the 
inward  state  :  and  thereby  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  iheir  own 
spirits,  in  the  reward  or  punishujent   of  themselves   and  their 
fellow-men.     Now  good  works  are  these  signs,  and  as  such  be- 
come necessary.     In  short  there  are  two  parties,  God  and  the 
human  race  :  and  both  are  to  be  satisfied  !  first,  God,  who  seeth 
the  root  and  knoweth  the  heart :  therefore  there  must  be  faith, 
or  the  entire  and  absolute  principle.  Then  man,  who  can  judge 
only  by  the  fruits  :  therefore  that  faith  must  bear  fruits  of  right- 
eousness, that  principle  must   ii^rvifest  itself  by   actions.     But 
that  which  God  sees,  that  alone  justifies  !  What  man  sees,  does 
in  this  life  shew^  that  the  justifying  principle  may  be  the  root  of 
the  thing   seen ;  but  in   the  final  judgment   the  acceptance   of 
these  actions  will   shew,  that   this  principle    actually  icas   the 
root.    In  this  world  a  good  life  is  si  presumption  of  a  good  man  : 
his  virtuous  actions  are  the  only  possible,  though   still  ambigu- 
ous,  manifestations  of  his  virtue  :  but  the   absence  of  a  good 
life  is  not  only  a  presumption,  but   a  proof  of  the   contrary,  as 
long  aa  it  continues.     Good  works  may  exist   without  saving 


277 

principles,  and  therefore  cannot  contain  in  themselves  the  prin- 
ciple of  salvation  ;  but  saving  principles  never  did,  never  can, 
exist  without  good  works.  On  a  subject  of  such  infinite  impor- 
tance, I  have  feared  prolixity  less  than  obscurity.  Men  often 
talk  against  faith,  and  make  strange  monsters  in  their  imagina- 
tion of  those  who  profess  to  abide  by  the  words  of  the  Apostle 
interpreted  literally:  and  yet  in  their  ordinary  feelings  they 
themselves  judge  and  act  by  a  similar  principle.  For  what  is 
love  without  kind  offices,  wherever  they  are  possible  ?  (and 
they  are  always  possible,  if  not  by  actions  commonly  so  called, 
yet  by  kind  words,  by  kind  looks;  and,  where  even  these  are 
out  of  our  power,  by  kind  thoughts  and  fervent  prayers  ! )  yet 
what  noble  mind  would  not  be  offended,  if  he  were  suppo- 
sed to  value  the  serviceable  oSices  equally  with  the  love  that 
produced  them  ;  or  if  he  were  thought  to  value  the  love  for 
the  sake  of  the  services,  and  not  the  services  for  the  sake  of 
the  love  ? 

J  return  to  the  question  of  general  consequences,  considered 
as  the  criterion  of  moral  actions.  The  admirer  of  Paley's  Sys- 
tem is  required  to  suspend  for  a  short  time  the  objection,  which, 
1  doubt  not,  he  has  already  made,  that  general  consequences 
are  stated  by  Paley  as  the  criterion  of  the  action,  not  of  the 
agent.  I  will  endeavor  to  satisfy  him  on  this  point,  when  I 
have  completed  my  present  chain  of  argument.  It  has  been 
shewn,  that  this  criterion  is  no  less  ideal  than  that  of  any  for- 
mer system  :  that  is,  it  is  no  less  incapable  of  receiving  any  ex- 
ternal experimental  proof,  compulsory  on  the  understandings 
of  all  men,  such  as  the  criteria  exhibited  in  chemistry.  Yet, 
unlike  the  elder  Systems  of  Morality,  it  remains  in  the  world 
of  the  senses,  without  deriving  any  evidence  therefrom.  The 
agent's  mind  is  compelled  to  go  out  of  itself  in  order  to  bring 
back  conjectures^  the  probability  of  which  will  vary  with  the 
shrewdness  of  the  individual.  Rut  this  criterion  is  not  only 
ideal :  it  is  likewise  imaginary.  If  we  believe  in  a  scheme  of 
Providence,  all  actions  alike  work  for  good.  There  is  not  the 
least  ground  for  supposing  that  the  crimes  of  Nero  were  less 
instrumental  in  bringing  about  our  present  advantages,  than 
the  virtues  of  the  Antonines.  Lastly  :  the  criterion  is  either 
nuo-atory  or  false.  It  is  demonstrated,  that  the  only  real  conse- 
quences  cannot  be  meant.     The  individual  is  to  imagine  what 


278 

the  general  consequences  ivould  be,  all  other  things  remaining 
the   same,  if  all  men  were   to  act  as  he  is  about  to   act.     I 
scarcely  need  remind  the  reader,  what  a  source  of  self  delusion 
and  sophistry  is  here  opened  to  a  mind  in  a  state  of  temptation. 
Will  it  not   say  to  itself,  I   know  that  all  men  will  not  act  so: 
and  the  immediate  good  consequences,  which  I  shall  obtain,  are 
real,  while  the  bad   consequences  are   imaginary  and  improba- 
ble ?     When  the    foundations   of  morality  have   once  been  laid 
in  outward  consequences,  it  will  be  in  vain  to  recall  to  the  mind, 
what  the  consequences  would  be,  were  all  men  to  reason  in  the 
same  way :  for  the  very  excuse  of  this  mind  to   itself  is,  that 
neither  its  action  nor  its  reasoning  is  likely  to  have  any  conse- 
quences at  all,  its  immediate  object  excepted.     But  suppose  the 
mind  in  its  sanest  state.     How  can  it  possibly  form  a  notion  of 
the  nature  of  an  action    considered   as  indefinitely  multiplied, 
unless  it  has  previously  a  distinct  notion   of  the  nature   of  the 
single  action  itself,  which  is  the  multiplicand  ?     If  I  conceive  a 
crown  multiplied  a  hundred  fold,  the  single  crown  enables  me 
to  understand  what  a  hundred   crowns   are  ;  but  how  can  the 
notion  hundred  teach  me  what  a  crown  is  ?  For  the  crown  sub- 
stitute X.  Y.  or  abracadabra,  and  my  imagination  may  multiply 
it  to  infinity,  yet  remain  as  much   at  a  loss  as  before.     But  if 
there  be  any  means  of  ascertaining  the  action  in  and  for  itself, 
what  further  do  we  want  ?     Would  we  give  light  to  the  sun,  or 
look  at  our  fingers  through  a  telescope  ?     The  nature  of  every 
action  is  determined  by  all  its  circumstances :  alter  the  circum- 
stances and  a  similar  set  of  motions  may  be  repeated,  but  they 
are  no  longer  the  same  or  similar  action.     What  would  a  sur- 
geon say,  if  he  were  advised  not  to  cut  off  a   limb,  because  if 
all  men  were  to  do  the  same,  the  consequences  would  be  dread- 
ful ?     Would  not  his  answer  be — "  Whoever  does  the  same  un- 
der the  same  circumstances,  and  with  the  same  motives,  will 
do  right;  but  if  the  circumstances  and  motives  are   different, 
what  have  I  to  do  with  it  ?"     I  confess  myself  unable  to  divine 
any  possible  use,  or  even  meaning,  in  this  doctrine  of  general 
consequences,  unless  it  be,  that  in  all  our  actions  we  are  bound 
to  consider  the  effect  of  our  example,  and  to  guard  as  much  as 
possible  against  the  hazard  of  their  being  misunderstood.    I  will 
not  slaughter  a  lamb,  or  drown  a  litter  of  kittens  in  the  pre- 
sence of  my  child  of  four  years  old,  because   the  child  cannot 
understand  my  action,  but  will  understand  that  his  father  has 


279 

inflicted  pain,  and  taken  away  life  from  beings  that  had  never 
offended  him.  All  this  is  true,  and  no  man  in  his  senses  ever 
thought  otherwise.  But  methinks  it  is  strange  to  state  that  as 
a  criterion  of  morality,  which  is  no  more  than  an  accessary  ag- 
gravation of  an  action  bad  in  its  own  nature,  or  a  ground  of 
caution  as  to  the  mode  and  time  in  which  we  are  to  do  or  sus- 
pend what  is  in  itself  good  or  innocent. 

The  duty  of  setting  a  good  example  is  no  doubt  a  most  im- 
portant duty  ;  but  the  example  is  good  or  bad,  necessary  or  un- 
necessary, according  as  the  action  may  be,  which  has  a  chance 
of  being  imitated.     I  once  knew  a  small,  but  (in  outward  cir- 
cumstances  at   least)    respectable    congregation,   four-fifths   of 
whom  professed  that  they  went  to  church   entirely  for  the  ex- 
ample's sake  ;  in  other  words  to  cheat  each  other  and   act  a 
common  lie  !     These  rational   Christians  had  not  considered, 
that  example  may  increase   the  good  or  evil   of  an  action,  but 
can  never  constitute  either.     If  it  was  2i  foolish  thing  to  kneel 
when  they  were  not  inwardly  praying,  or  to  sit  and  listen  to  a 
discourse  of  which  they  believed  little  and  cared  nothing,  they 
were  setting  a  foolish  example.     Persons  in  their  respectable 
circumstances  do  not  think  it  necessary  to  clean  shoes,  that  by 
their  example  they  may  encourage  the  shoe-black  in  continuing 
his  occupation  :  and   Christianity  does  not   think   so  meanly  of 
herself  as  to  fear  that  the  poor  and  afflicted  will  be  a  whit  the 
less  pious,  though  they  should  see  reason  to  believe  that  those, 
who  possessed  the  good  things  of  the  present  life,  were  deter- 
mined to  leave  all  the  blessings  of  the   future  for  their  more 
humble  inferiors.     If  I  have  spoken  with  bitterness,  let  it  be 
recollected  that  my  subject  is  hypocrisy. 

It  is  likewise  fit,  that  in  all  our  actions  we  should  have  con- 
sidered how  far  they  are  likely  to  be  misunderstood,  and  from 
superficial  resemblances  to  be  confounded  with,  and  so  appear 
to  authorize  actions  of  a  very  different  character.  But  if  this 
caution  be  intended  for  a  moral  rule,  the  misunderstanding  must 
be  such  as  might  be  made  by  persons  who  are  neither  very 
weak  nor  very  wicked.  The  apparent  resemblances  between 
the  good  action  we  were  about  to  do  and  the  bad  one  which 
might  possibly  be  done  in  mistaken  imitation  of  it,  must  be  ob- 
vious :  or  that  which  makes  them  essentially  different,  must  be 
subtle  or  recondite.  For  what  is  there  which  a  wicked  man 
blinded  by  his  passions  may  not,  and  which  a  madman  will  not, 


280 

misunderstand  ?  It  is  ridiculous  to  frame  rules  of  morality  with 
a  view  to  those  who  are  fit  objects  only  for  the  physician  or  the 
magistrate. 

The  question  may  be  thus  illustrated.  At  Florence  there 
is  an  unfinished  bust  of  Brutus,  by  Michael  Angelo,  under 
which  a  Cardinal  wrote  the  following  distich: 

Diim  Bruti  effigiem  scu]j)tor  de  marniore  finxit, 
In  nientem  sceleris  venit ;  et  abstinuit. 
As  the  Sculptor  ivas  forming  the  effigy  of  Brutus,  in  marble,  he  recollected  his 
act  of  guilt  and  refrained. 

An  English  Nobleman,  indignant  at  this  distich,  wrote  immedi- 
ately under  it  the  following  : 

Biiitiiin  effiiixisset  sculptor,  sed  inente  recursat 
3Iiilta  vjri  virtus;  stetit  et  obstiipuit. 
The  Scidptor  ivoidd  have  framed  a  Bridus,  hut  the  vast  and  manifold  vhiue  of 
the  man  fashed  upon  his  thought :  he  stopped  and  remained 
in  astonished  admiration. 

Now  which  is  the  nobler  and  more  moral  sentiment,  the  Ita- 
lian Cardinal's,  or  the  English  Nobleman's  ?  The  Cardinal 
would  appeal  to  the  doctrine  of  general  consequences,  and  pro- 
nounce the  death  of  Csesar  a  murder,  and  Brutus  an  assassin. 
For  (he  would  say)  if  one  man  may  be  allowed  to  kill  another 
because  he  thinks  him  a  tyrant,  religious  or  political  phrenzy 
may  stamp  the  name  of  tyrant  on  the  best  of  kings  ;  regicide 
will  be  justified  under  the  pretence  of  tyrannicide,  and  Brutus 
be  quoted  as  authority  for  the  Clements  and  Ravilliacs.  From 
kings  it  may  pass  to  generals  and  statesmen,  and  froai  these  to 
any  man  wliom  an  enemy  or  enthusiast  may  pronounce  unfit  to 
live.  Thus  we  may  ha\e  a  cobbler  of  Messina  in  e\  ery  city, 
and  bravos  in  our  common  streets  as  common  as  in  those  of 
Naples,  with  the  name  Brutus,  on  their  stilettos. 

The  Englishman  would  commence  his  answer  by  comment- 
ing on  the  words  "because  he  thinks  him  a  tyrant."  No  !  he 
would  reply,  not  because  the  patriot  thinks  him  a  tyrant ;  but 
because  he  knows  him  to  be  so,  and  knows  likewise,  that  the 
vilest  of  his  slaves  cannot  deny  the  fact,  that  he  has  by  violence 
raised  himself  above  the  laws  of  his  country — because  he  knows 
that  all  good  and  wise  men  equally  with  himself  abhor  the  fact ! 
If  there  be  no  such  state  as  that  of  being  broad  awake,  or  no 
means  of   distinguishing   it   when   it   exists;    if   because  men 


281 

sometimes  dream  that  they  are  awake,  it  must  follow  that  no 
man,  when  awake,  can  be  sure  that  he  is  not  dreaming  ;  if  be- 
cause an  hypochondriac  is  positive  that  his  legs  are  cylinders 
of  glass,  all  other  men  are  to  learn  modesty,  and  cease  to  be  so 
positive  that  their  legs  are  legs  ;  what  possible  advantage  can 
your  criterion  of  general  consequences  possess  over  any 
other  rule  of  direction  ?  If  no  man  can  be  sure  that  W'h.it  he 
thinks  a  robber  with  a  pistol  at  his  breast  demanding  his  purse, 
may  not  be  a  good  friend  enquiring  after  his  health  ;  or  that  a  ty- 
rant (the  son  of  a  cobbler  perhaps,  who  at  the  head  of  a  regiment 
of  perjured  traitors,  has  driven  the  representatives  of  his  coun- 
try out  of  the  senate  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  subverted  the 
constitu!ion  which  had  trusted,  enriched  and  honored  him,  tram- 
pled on  the  laws  which  before  God  and  Man  he  had  sworn  to 
obey,  and  finally  raised  himself  above  all  law^)  may  not,  in  spite 
of  his  own  and  his  neighbors'  knowledge  of  the  contrary  be  a 
lawful  king,  who  has  received  his  power,  however  despotic  it 
may  be,  from  the  kings  his  ancestors,  who  exercises  no  other 
power  than  what  had  been  submitted  to  for  centuries,  and  been 
acknowledged  as  the  law  of  the  country  ;  on  what  ground  can 
you  possibly  expect  less  fallibility,  or  a  result  more  to  be  relied 
upon  in  the  same  man's  calculation  of  your  general  conse- 
quences ?  Would  Ae,  at  least,  find  any  difficulty  in  converting 
your  criterion  into  an  authority  for  his  act  ?  What  should  pre- 
vent a  man,  whose  perceptions  and  judgments  are  so  strangely 
distorted,  from  arguing,  that  nothing  is  more  devoutly  to  be 
wished  for,  as  a  general  consequence,  than  that  every  man,  who 
by  violence  places  himself  above  the  law^s  of  his  country,  should 
in  all  ages  and  nations  be  considered  by  mankind  as  placed  by 
his  own  act  out  of  the  protection  of  law,  and  be  treated  by  them 
as  any  other  noxious  wild  beast  would  be?  Do  you  think  it 
necessary  to  try  adders  by  a  jury  ?  Do  you  hesitate  to  pi  <.ot  a 
mad  dog,  because  it  is  not  in  your  power  to  have  him  firit  iiied 
and  condemned  at  the  Old  Bailey?  On  the  other  hand,  what 
consequence  can  be  conceived  more  detestable,  than  one  which 
would  set  a  bounty  on  the  most  enormous  crime  in  human  na- 
ture, and  establish  as  a  law  of  religion  and  morality  that  the 
accomplishment  of  the  most  atrocious  guilt  invests  the  perpe- 
trator with  impunity,  and  renders  his  person  forever  sacred  and 
inviolable  ?  For  madmen  and  enthusiasts  what  avail  your  mo- 
ral criterions  ?  But  as  to  your  Neapolitan  Bravos,  if  the  act 
36 


282 

of  Brutus  who  "  In  pity  to  the  general  icrong  of  Rome^  Slew 
his  best  lover  for  the  good  of  Rome^^^  authorized  by  the  laws 
of  his  country,  in  manifest  opposition  to  all  selfish  interests  in 
the  face  of  the  Senate,  and  instantly  presenting  himself  and 
his  cause  first  to  that  Senate,  and  then  to  the  assembled  Com- 
mons, by  them  to  stand  acquitted  or  condemned — if  such  an 
act  as  this,  with  all  its  vast  out-jutting  circumstances  of  distinc- 
tion, can  be  confounded  by  any  mind,  not  frantic,  with  the 
crime  of  a  cowardly  skulking  assassin  who  hires  out  his  dagger 
for  a  few  crowns  to  gratify  a  hatred  not  his  own,  or  even  with 
the  deed  of  that  man  who  makes  a  compromise  between  his 
revenge  and  his  cowardice,  and  stabs  in  the  dark  the  enemy 
whom  he  dared  not  meet  in  the  open  field,  or  summon  before 
the  laws  of  his  country — what  actions  can  be  so  different,  that 
they  may  not  be  equally  confounded  ?  The  ambushed  soldier 
must  not  fire  his  musket,  lest  his  example  should  be  quoted  by 
the  villain  who,  to  make  sure  of  his  booty,  discharges  his  piece 
at  the  unsuspicious  passenger  from  behind  a  hedge  The  phy- 
sician must  not  administer  a  solution  of  arsenic  to  the  lep- 
rous, lest  his  example  should  be  quoted  by  professional  poi- 
soners. If  no  distinction,  full  and  satisfactory  to  the  con- 
science and  common  sense  of  mankind  be  afforded  by  the  de- 
testation and  horror  excited  in  all  men,  (even  in  the  meanest 
and  most  vicious,  if  they  are  not  wholly  monsters)  by  the  act 
of  the  assassin,  contrasted  w^ith  the  fervent  admiration  felt  by 
the  good  and  wise  in  all  ages  when  they  mention  the  name  of 
Brutus ;  contrasted  with  the  fact  that  the  honor  or  disrespect 
with  which  that  name  w^as  spoken  of,  became  an  historic  crite- 
rion of  a  noble  or  a  base  age ;  and  if  it  is  in  vain  that  our  own 
hearts  answer  to  the  question  of  the  Poet 

"  Is  there  among  the  adamantine  spheres 
Wheehng  unshaken  through  the  boundless  void, 
Aught  that  with  half  such  majesty  can  fill 
The  human  bosom,  as  whon  Erutus  rose 
Refulgent  from  the  stroke  of  Caesar's  fate 
Amid  the  croud  of  Patriots  ;  and  his  arm 
Aloft  extending,  like  eternal  Jove, 
When  guilt  brings  down  the  thunder,  call'd  tdoud 
On  Tully's  name,  and  shook  his  crimson  sword, 
And  hade  tlie  Father  of  his  Country,  Hail ! 
For  lo  the  Tyrant  prostrate  on  the  dust 
And  Rome  again  ia  fiee !" 


283 

If,  I  say,  all  this  be  fallacious  and  insufficient,  can  we  have  any 
firmer  reliance  on  a  cold  ideal  calculation  of  imaginary  gen- 
eral, CONSEQUENCES,  which,  if  they  were  general,  could  not  bo 
consequences  at  all :  for  they  would  be  eftects  of  the  frenzy  or 
frenzied  wickedness,  which  alone  could  confound  actions  so  ut- 
terly dissimilar  ?  No  !  (would  the  ennobled  descendant  of  our 
Russels  or  Sidneys  conclude)  No!  Calumnious  bigot!  never 
yet  did  a  human  being  become  an  assassin  from  his  own  or  the 
general  admiration  of  the  hero  Brutus;  but  I  dare  not  warrant, 
that  villains  might  not  be  encouraged  in  their  trade  of  secret 
murder,  by  finding  their  own  guilt  attributed  to  the  Roman 
patriot,  and  might  not  conclude,  that  if  Brutus  be  no  better 
than  an  assassin,  an  assassin  can  be  no  worse  than  Brutus. 

I  request  that  the  preceding  be  not  interpreted  as  my  own 
judgment  on  tyranicide.  I  think^with  Machiaveland  with  Spin- 
osa  for  many  and  weighty  reasons  assigned  by  those  philoso- 
phers, that  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  a  case,  in  which  a  good 
man  would  attempt  tryrannicide,  because  it  is  difficult  to  con- 
ceive one,  in  which  a  wise  man  would  recommend  it.  In  a 
small  state,  included  within  the  walls  of  a  single  city,  and  where 
the  tyranny  is  maintained  by  foreign  guards,  it  may  be  other- 
wise ;  but  in  a  nation  or  empiife  it  is  perhaps  inconceivable, 
that  the  circumstances  which  made  a  tyranny  possible,  should 
not  likewise  render  the  removal  of  the  tyrant  useless.  The 
patriot's  sword  may  cut  off  the  Hydra's  head  ;  but  he  possesses 
no  brand  to  stanch  the  active  corruption  of  the  body,  which  is 
sure  to  re-produce  a  successor. 

I  must  now  in  a  few  words  answer  the  objection  to  the  for- 
mer part  of  my  argument  (for  to  that  part  onlj-  the  objection 
applies,)  namely,  that  the  doctrine  of  general  consequences 
was  stated  as  the  criterion  of  the  action,  r.ot  of  the  agent.  I 
might  answer,  that  the  author  himself  had  in  some  measure  jus- 
tified me  in  not  noticing  this  distinction  by  holding  forth  the 
probability,  that  the  Supreme  Judge  will  proceed  by  the  same 
rule.  The  agent  may  then  safely  be  included  in  the  action,  if 
both  here  and  hereafter  the  action  only  and  its  general  conse- 
quences will  be  attended  to.  But  my  main  ground  of  justification 
is  that  the  distinction  itself  is  merely  logical,  not  real  and  vital.  • 
The  character  of  the  agent  is  determined  by  his  view  of  the 
action  ;  and  that  system  of  morality  is  alone  true  and  suited  to 
human  nature,  which  unites  the  intention  and  the  motive,  the 


284 

warmth  and  the  light,  in  one  and  the  same  act  of  mind.  This 
alone  is  worthy  to  be  called  a  moral  principle.  Such  a  prin- 
ciple may  be  extracted,  though  not  without  difficulty  and  dan- 
ger, from  the  ore  of  the  stoic  philosophy  ;  but  it  is  to  be  found 
unalloyed  and  entire  in  the  Christian  system,  and  is  there  call- 
ed Faith. 


ESSAY     XII. 


The  following  Address  was  delivered  at  Bristol,  in  the  year  1794-95.  The 
only  omissions  regard  the  names  of  persons  :  and  I  insert  them  here  in  sup- 
port of  the  assertion  made  by  me,  p,  190 — 194,  and  because  this  very  Lecture 
has  been  referred  to  in  an  infamous  Libel  in  proof  of  the  Author's  former 
Jacobinism.  Different  as  my  present  convictions  are  on  the  subject  of  philo- 
sophical Necessity,  I  have  for  tliis  reason  left  the  last  page  unaltered. 


Ast  yitQ  rrjQ  Elevd-eQiag  ecpis^ur  noXXu.  ds  sy  xat.  roig  (piXeXevd-eQOig 
fiicTTjiect,  uvtsXev&sQu. 

Translation. — For  I  am  always  a  lover  of  Liberty ;  but  in  those  who  would 
appropriate  tlie  Title,  I  find  too  many  points  destructive  of  Liberty  and 
hateful  to  her  genuine  advocates. 


Companies  resembling  the  present  will,  from  a  variety  of 
circumstances,  consist  chiefly  of  the  zealous  Advocates  for 
Freedom.  It  will  therefore  be  our  endeavor,  not  so  much  to 
excite  the  torpid,  as  to  regulate  the  feelings  of  the  ardent : 
and  above  all,  to  evince  the  necessity  of  bottoming  on  fixed 
Principles,  that  so  we  may  not  be  the  unstable  Patriots  of  Pas- 
sion or  Accident,  nor  hurried  away  by  names  of  which  we  have 
not  sifted  the  meaning,  and  by  tenets  of  which  we  have   not 


285 

examined  the  consequences.  The  Times  are  trying ;  and  in 
order  to  be  prepared  ogainst  their  difficulties,  we  should  have 
acquired  a  prompt  facility  of  adv  erting  in  all  our  doubts  to  some 
grand  and  comprehensive  Truth.  In  a  deep  and  strong  soil 
must  that  tree  fix  its  roots,  the  height  of  which  is  to  "  reach  to 
Heaven,  and  the  sight  of  it  to  the  ends  of  all  the  Earth." 

The  examjlle  of  France  is  indeed  a  "  Warning  to  Britain." 
A  nation  wading  to  their  rights  through  blood,  and  marking  the 
track  of  Freedom  by  Devastation  !  Yet  let  us  not  embattle  our 
Feelings  against  our  Reason.  Let  us  not  indulge  our  malig- 
nant passions  under  the  mask  of  Humanity.  Instead  of  railing 
with  infuriate  declamation  against  these  excesses,  we  shall  be 
more  profitably  employed  in  developing  the  sources  of  them. 
French  Freedom  is  the  beacon  which  if  it  guides  to  Equality 
should  shew  us  likewise  the  dangers  that  throng  the  road. 

The  annals  of  the  French  Revolution  have  recorded  in  let- 
ters of  blood,  that  the  knowledge  of  the  few  cannot  counter- 
act the  ignorance  of  the  many  ;  that  the  light  of  philosophy,  when 
it  is  confined  to  a  small  minority,  points  out  the  possessors  as 
the  victims,  rather  than  the  illuminators,  of  the  multitude. 
The  patriots  of  France  either  hastened  into  the  dangerous  and 
gigantic  error  of  making  certain  evil  the  means  of  contingent 
good,  or  were  sacrificed  by  the  mob,  with  whose  prejudices  and 
ferocity  their  unbending  virtue  forbade  them  to  assimilate. 
Like  Sampson,  the  people  were  strong — like  Sampson,  the 
people  were  blind.  Those  two  massy  pillars  of  the  temple  of 
Oppression,  their  Monarchy  and  Aristocracy, 

With  horrible  Convulsion  to  and  fro 

They  tiiggVl,  tliey  shook — till  clown  they  came  ami  drew 

The  whole  roof  after  them  with  burst  of  thunder 

Upon  the  heads  of  all  who  sat  beneath, 

Lords,  Ladies,  Captains,  Counsellors,  and  Priests, 

Their  choice  nobility !  Milton.  Sam.  Agon. 

The  Girondists,  who  were  the  first  republicans  in  power, 
were  men  of  enlarged  views  and  great  literary  attainments ; 
but  they  seem  to  have  been  deficient  in  that  vigour  and  daring 
activity,  which  circumstances  made  necessary.  Men  of  genius 
are  rarely  either  prompt  in  action  or  consistent  in  general  conduct. 
Their  early  habits  have  been  those  of  contemplative  indolence  ; 
and  the  day-dreams,  with  which  they  have  been  accustomed 
to  amuse  their   solitude  adapt  them  for  splendid   speculation 


286 

not  temperate  and  practicable  counsels.     Brissot,  the  leader  of 
the  Gironde  party,  is  entitled  to  the  character  of  a  virtuous  man, 
and  an  eloquent  speaker  ;  but  he  was  rather  a  sublime  visionary, 
than  a  quick-eyed  politician  ;  and  his  excellences  equally  with 
^his  faults  rendered  him  unfit  for  the  helm  in  the  stormy  hour  of 
Revolution.     Robespierre,    who    displaced    him,    possessed    a 
glowing  ardor  that  still  remembered  the  end^  and  a  cool  feroci- 
ty that  never  either  overlooked,  or  scrupled  the  means.     What 
that   end  was,  is  not  known :  that  it  was  a  wicked    one,  has  by 
no   means   been  proved.     I  rather  think,  that  the  distant  pros- 
pect, to  which   he  was   travelling,   appeared  to  him   grand  and 
beautiful ;  but  that  he  fixed  his  eye  on  it   with  such  intense  ea- 
gerness as  to  neglect  the  foulness  of  the  road.     If  however  his 
intentions  were  pure,  his  subsequent  enormities  yield  us  a  me- 
lancholy proof,  that  it  is  not  the  character  of  the  possessor  which 
directs  the  power,  but  the  power  which  shapes  and  depraves  the 
character  of  the  possessor.     In  Robespierre,  its  influence  was  as- 
sisted by  the  properties  of  his  disposition. — Enthusiasm,  even  in 
the  gentlest  temper,  will  frequently  generate  sensations  of  an  un- 
kindly  order.     If  we   clearly   perceive  any  one  thing  to  be  of 
vast  and    infinite    importance  to  ourselves  and  all  mankind,  our 
first  feelings  impel  us  to  turn  with  angry  contempt  from  those, 
who  doubt  and  oppose  it.     The  ardor  of  undisciplined  benevo- 
lence seduces  us  into  malignity :  and   whenever  our  hearts  are 
warm,  and  our  objects  great  and  excellent,  intolerance  is  the  sin 
that  does  most  easily  beset  us.     But  this  enthusiasm  in  Robes- 
pierre was  blended  with   gloom,   and  suspiciousness,  and  inor- 
dinate  vanity.     His   dark  imagination  v.^as   still  brooding  over 
supposed  plots  against  freedom — to  prevent  tyranny  he  became 
a  tyrant — and   having  realized  the  evils  which  he  suspected,  a 
wild  and  dreadful   tyrant. — Those   loud   tongued  adulators,  the 
mob,   overpowered   the  lone    whispered  denunciations  of  con- 
science— he  despotized  in  all  the  pomp  of  patriotism,  and  mas- 
queraded on  the  bloody  stage  of  revolution,  a  Caligula  with  the 
cap  of  liberty  on  his  head. 

It  has  been  affirmed,  and  I  believe  with  truth,  that  the  sys- 
tem of  Terrorism  by  suspending  the  struggles  of  contrariant 
factions  communicated  an  energy  to  the  operations  of  the  Re- 
public, which  had  been  hitherto  unknown,  and  without  which 
it  could  not  have  been  preserved.  The  system  depended  for 
its  existence  on  the   general  sense  of  its  necessity  and  when  it 


287 

had  answered  its  end,  it  was  soon  destroyed  by  the  same  power 
that  had  given  it  birth — popular  opinion.  It  must  not  however 
be  disguised,  that  at  all  times,  but  more  especially  when  the 
public  feelings  are  wavy  and  tumultuous,  artful  demagogues  may 
create  this  opinion  :  and  they,  who  are  inclined  to  tolerate  evil 
as  the  means  of  contingent  good,  should  reflect,  that  if  the 
excesses  of  terrorism  gave  to  the  Republic  that  efficiency  and 
repulsive  force  which  its  circumstances  made  necessary,  they 
likewise  afforded  to  the  hostile  courts  the  mpst  powerful  sup- 
port and  excited  that  indignation  and  horror,  which  every 
wiiere  precipitated  the  subject  into  the  designs  of  the  ruler. 
Nor  let  it  be  forgotten  that  these  excesses  perpetuated  the  war 
in  La  Vendee  and  made  it  more  terrible,  both  by  the  accession 
of  numerous  partizans,  who  had  fled  from  the  persecution  of 
Robespierre,  and  by  inspiring  the  Chouans  with  fresh  fury, 
and  an  unsubmitting  spirit  of  revenge  and  desperation. 

Revolutions  are  sudden  to  the  unthinking  only.  Political 
disturbances  happen  not  without  their  warning  harbingers. 
Strange  rumblings  and  confused  noises  still  precede  these  earth- 
quakes and  hurricanes  of  the  moral  vrorld.  The  process  of 
revolution  in  France  has  been  dreadful,  and  should  incite  us 
to  examine  with  an  anxious  eye  the  motives  and  manners  of 
those,  whose  conduct  and  opinions  seem  calculated  to  forward 
a  similar  event  in  our  own  country.  The  oppositionists  to 
"  things  as  they  are,"  are  divided  into  many  and  different  class- 
es. To  delineate  them  with  an  unflattering  accuracy  may  be  a 
delicate,  but  it  is  a  necessary  task,  in  order  that  we  may  en- 
lighten, or  at  least  beware  of  the  misguided  men  who  have  en- 
listed under  the  banners  of  liberty,  from  no  principles  or  with 
bad  ones;  whether  they  be  those,  who 

admire  they  know  not  wliat, 
And  know  not  wlioni,  but  as  one  leads  to  the  other : 

or  whether  those. 

Whose  end  is  jirivatc  hate,  not  help  to  ficcdoni. 
Adverse  and  tiuhulcnt  v.hen  she  would  lead 
To  ^irtue. 

The  majority  of  democrats  appear  to  me  to  have  attained  that 
portion  of  knowledge  in  ])olilics,  which  infidels  possess  in  re- 
ligion.    I  would  by  no   means   be  supposed  to   imply,  that  the 


288 

objections  of  both  are  equally  unfounded,  but  that  they  both 
attribute  to  the  system  which  they  reject,  a'l  the  evils  existing 
under  it;  and  that  both  contemplating  truth  and  justice  "in  the 
nakedness  of  abstraction,"  condemn  constitutions  and  dispensa- 
tions without  having  suificiently  examined  the  natures,  circum- 
stances and  capacities  of  their  recipients.  The  first  class  among 
the  professed  friends  of  liberty  is  composed  of  men,  who  un- 
accustomed to  the  labor  of  thorough  investigation,  and  not  par- 
ticularly oppressed  by  the  burthens  of  state,  are  yet  impelled 
by  their  feelings  to  disapprove  of  its  grosser  depravities,  and 
prepared  to  give  an  indolent  vote  in  favor  of  reform.  Their 
sensibilities  unbraced  by  the  co-operation  of  fjxed  principles, 
they  offer  no  sacrifices  to  the  divinity  of  active  virtue.  Their 
political  opinions  depend  with  weather-cock  uncertainty  on  the 
the  winds  of  rumor,  that  blow  from  France.  On  the  report  of 
French  victories  they  blaze  into  republicanism,  at  a  tale  of 
French  excesses  they  darken  into  aristocrats.  These  dovgh-ba- 
ked  patriots  are  not  however  useless.  This  oscillation  of  political 
opinion  will  retard  the  day  of  revolution,  and  it  will  operate  as  a 
preventive  to  its  excesses.  Indecisiveness  of  character,  though 
the  effect  of  timidity,  is  almost  always  associated  with  benevo- 
lence. 

Wilder  features  characterize  the  second  class.  Sufficiently 
possessed  of  natural  sense  to  despise  the  priest,  and  of  natural 
feeling  to  hate  the  oppressor,  they  listen  only  to  the  inflamma- 
tory harangues  of  some  mad-headed  enthusiast,  and  imbibe  from 
them  poison,  not  food  ;  rage,  not  liberty.  Unillumined  by  phi- 
losophy, and  stimuhited  to  a  lust  of  revenge  by  aggravated 
wrongs,  they  would  make  the  altar  of  freedom  stream  with 
blood,  while  the  grass  grew  in  the  desolated    halls  of  justice. 

We  contemplate  those  principles  with  horror.  Yet  they  pos- 
sess a  kind  of  wild  justice  well  calculated  to  spread  them  among 
the  grossly  ignorant.  To  unenlightened  minds,  there  are  terrible 
charms  in  the  idea  of  retribution,  however  savagely  it  be  incul- 
cated. The  groans  of  the  oppressors  make  fearful  yet  pleasant 
music  to  the  ear  of  him,  whose  mind  is  darkness,  and  into  whose 
soul  the  iron  has  entered. 

This  class,  at  present,  is  comparatively  small — Yet  soon  to 
form  an  overwhelming  majority,  unless  great  and  immediate 
efforts  are  used  to  lessen  the  intolerable  grievances  of  our  poor 
brethren,  and  infuse  into  their  sorely  wounded  hearts  the  healing 


^9 

qualities  of  knowledge.  For  can  we  wonder  that  men  should  want 
humanity,  who  want  all  the  circumstances  of  life  that  humanize  ? 
Can  we  wonder  that  with   the  ignorance  of  brutes  they  should 

/  unite  their  ferocity  ?  Peace  and  comfort  be  with  these  !  But  let 
us  shudder  to  hear  from  men   of  dissimilar  opportunities  senti- 

.    ments  of  similar  revengefulness.     The  purifying  alchemy  of  ed- 

/  ucation  may  transmute  the  fierceness  of  an  ignorant  man  into 
virtuous  energy — but  what  remedy  shall  we  apply  to  him,  whom 
plenty  has  not  softened,  whom  knowledge  has  not  taught  bene- 
volence ?  This  is  one  among  the  many  fatal  effects  which  re- 
sult from  the  want  of  fixed  principles. 
:      There  is  a  third  class  among  the   friends   of  freedom,  who 

■  possess  not  the  wavering  character  of  the  first  description,  nor 
the  ferocity  last  delineated.  They  pursue  the  interests  of  free- 
dom steadily,  but  with  narrow  and  self-centering  views :  they 
anticipate  wuth  exultation  the  abolition  of  privileged  orders,  and 
of  acts  that  persecute  by  exclusion  from  the  right  of  citizen- 
ship. They  are  prepared  to  join  in  digging  up  the  rubbish  of 
mouldering  establishments,  and  stripping  off  the  tawdry  pa- 
geantry of  governments.  Whatever  is  above  them  they  are 
most  willing  to  drag  down  ;  but  every  proposed  alteration  that 
would  elevate  the  ranks  of  our  poorer  brethren,  they  regard 
with  suspicious  jealousy,  as  the  dreams  of  the  visionary ;  as  if 
there  were  any  thing  in  the  superiority  of  Lord  to  Gentleman, 
so  mortifying  in  the  barrier,  so  fatal  to  happiness  in  the  con- 
sequences, as  the  more  real  distinction  of  master  and  servant, 
of  rich  man  and  of  poor.  Wherein  am  I  made  worse  by  my  en- 
nobled neighbor  ?  Do  the  childish  titles  of  Aristocracy  detract 
from  my  domestic  comforts,  or  prevent  my  intellectual  acquisi- 
tions ?  But  those  institutions  of  society  which  should  condemn 
me  to  the  necessity  of  twelve  hours  daily  toil,  would  make  my 
soul  a  slave,  and  sink  the  rational  being  into  the  mere  animal. 
It  is  a  mockery  of  our  fellow  creatures'  wrongs  to  call  them 
equal  in  rights,  when  by  the  bitter  compulsion  of  their  wants 
we  make  them  inferior  to  us  in  all  that  can  soften  the  heart,  or 
dignify  the  understanding.  Let  us  not  say  that  this  is  the  work 
of  time — that  it  is  impracticable  at  present,  unless  we  each  in 
our  individual  capacities  do  strenuously  and  perseveringly  en- 
deavor to  diffuse  among  our  domestics  those  comforts  and  that 
illumination  which  far  beyond   all  political   ordinances  are  the 

true  equalizers  of  men. 
37 


290 

We  turn  with  pleasure  to  the  contemplation  of  that  small  hut 
glorious  band,  whom  we  may  truly  distinguish  by  the  name  of 
thinking  and  disinterested  patriots.  These  are  the  men  who 
have  encouraged  the  sympathetic  passions  till  they  have  become 
irresistible  habits,  and  made  their  duty  a  necessary  part  of  their 
self-interest,  by  the  long-continued  cultivation  of  that  moral 
taste  which  derives  our  most  exquisite  pleasures  from  the  con- 
templation of  possible  perfection,  and  proportionate  pain  from 
the  perception  of  existing  depravation.  Accustomed  to  regard  all 
the  affairs  of  man  as  a  process,  they  never  hurry  and  they  never 
pause.  Theirs  is  not  that  twilight  of  political  knowledge  which 
gives  us  just  light  enough  to  place  one  foot  before  the  other  ;  as 
they  advance  the  scene  still  opens  upon  them,  and  they  press 
right  onward  with  a  vast  and  various  landscape  of  existence 
around  them.  Calmness  and  energy  mark  all  their  actions. 
Convinced  that  vice  originates  not  in  the  man,  but  in  the  sur- 
rounding circumstances ;  not  in  the  heart,  but  in  the  under- 
standing ;  he  is  hopeless  concerning  no  one — to  correct  a  vice 
or  generate  a  virtuous  conduct  he  pollutes  not  his  hands  with  the 
scourge  of  coercion ;  but  by  endeavouring  to  alter  the  circum- 
cumstances  would  remove,  or  by  strengthening  the  intellect, 
disarms  the  temptation.  The  unhappy  children  ot  vice  and  fol- 
ly, whose  tempers  are  adverse  to  their  own  happiness  as  well 
as  to  the  happiness  of  others,  will  at  times  awaken  a  natural 
pang  :  but  he  looks  forward  with  gladdened  heart  to  that  glo- 
rious period  when  justice  shall  have  established  the  universal 
fraternity  of  love.  These  soul-ennobling  views  bestow  the 
virtues  which  they  anticipate.  He  whose  mind  is  habitually 
imprest  with  them  soars  above  the  present  state  of  humanity, 
and  may  be  justly  said  to  dwell  in  the  presence  of  the  Most 
High. 


would  tlie  forms 

Of  senile  custom  cramp  the  patriot's  power  ? 
Would  sordid  policies  the  barbarous  growth 
Of  ignorance  and  rapine,  bow  him  dowTi 
To  tame  pursuits,  to  indolence  and  fear  ? 
Lo  !  he  appeals  to  nature,  to  the  winds 
And  rolling  waves,  the  siui's  unwearied  course 
The  elements  and  seasons — all  declare 
For  wiiat  the  Eternal  Maker  has  ordained 
The  powers  of  man  :  we  feel  within  ourselves 
His  energy  divine:  he  tells  the  heart 


291 

He  meant,  he  made  us  to  behold  and  love 

What  he  beholds  and  loves,  the  general  orb 

Of  life  and  being — to  be  great  like  him, 

Beneficent  and  active.  Akensidb. 

That  the  general  illumination  should  precede  revolution, 
is  a  truth  as  obvious,  as  that  the  vessel  should  be  cleansed  be- 
fore  we  fill  it  with  a  pure  liquor.  But  the  mode  of  diffusing  it 
is  not  discoverable  with  equal  facility.  We  certainly  should 
never  attempt  to  make  proselytes  by  appeals  to  the  selfish  feel- 
ings— and  consequently,  should  plead /"or  the  oppressed,  not  to 
them.  The  author  of  an  essay  on  political  justice  considers 
private  societies  as  the  sphere  of  real  utility — that  (each  one 
illuminating  those  immediately  beneath  him,)  truth  by  a  gra- 
dual descent,  may  at  last  reach  the  lowest  order.  But  this  is 
rather  plausible  than  just  or  practicable.  Society  as  at  present 
constituted  does  not  resemble  a  chain  that  ascends  in  a  contin- 
uity of  links.  Alas  !  between  the  parlour  and  the  kitchen,  the 
tap  and  the  coffee-room — there  is  a  gulph  that  may  not  be  pass- 
ed. He  would  appear  to  me  to  have  adopted  the  best  as  well 
as  the  most  benevolent  mode  of  diffusing  truth,  who  uniting  the 
zeal  of  the  Methodist  with  the  views  of  the  Philosopher,  should 
be  pei'S07ially  among  the  poor,  and  teach  them  their  duties  in 
order  that  he  may  render  them  susceptible  of  their  rights. 

Yet  by  what  means  can  the  lower  classes  be  made  to  learn 
their  duties,  and  urged  to  practise  them  ?  The  human  race 
may  perhaps  possess  the  capability  of  all  excellence  ;  and  truth, 
I  doubt  not,  is  omnipotent  to  a  mind  already  disciplined  for  its 
reception  ;  but  assuredly  the  over- worked  labourer,  skulking 
into  an  ale-house,  is  not  likely  to  exemplify  the  one,  or  prove 
the  other.  In  that  barbarous  tumult  of  inimical  interests, 
which  the  present  state  of  society  exhibits,  religion  appears  to 
offer  the  only  means  universally  efficient.  The  perfectness  of 
future  men  is  indeed  a  benevolent  tenet,  and  may  operate  on 
a  few  visionaries  whose  studious  habits  supply  them  with  em- 
ployment, and  seclude  them  from  temptation.  But  a  distant 
prospect  which  we  are  never  to  reach,  will  seldom  quicken  our 
footsteps,  however  lovely  it  may  appear  ;  and  a  blessing,  which 
not  ourselves  but  posterity  are  destined  to  enjoy,  will  scarcely 
influence  the  actions  of  any — still  less  of  the  ignorant,  the  pre- 
judiced, and  the  selfish. 

"  Go  preach  the  Gospii:!.  to  the  poor."     By  its  simplicity  it 


292 

will  meet  their  comprehension,  by  its  benevolence  soften  their 
affections,  by  its  precepts  it  will  direct  their  conduct,  by  the 
vastness  of  its  motives  ensure  their  obedience.  The  situation 
of  the  poor  is  perilous :  they  are  indeed  both 

" fiom  witliin  and  from  without 
Urmnned  to  all  temptations." 

Prudential  reasonings  will  in  general  be  powerless  with  them. 
For  the  incitements  of  this  world  are  weak  in  proportion  as  we 
are  wretched — 

The  world  is  not  iny  friond,  nor  the  Avorld's  law. 
The  world  has  got  no  law  to  make  ??ie  rich. 

They  too,  who  live  from  hand  to  mouthy  will  most  frequently 
become  improvident.  Possessing  no  stock  of  happiness  they  ea- 
gerly seize  the  gratifications  of  the  moment,  and  snatch  the  froth 
from  the  wave  as  it  passes  by  them.  Nor  is  the  desolate  state 
of  their  families  a  restraining  motive,  unsoftened  as  they  are 
by  education,  and  benumbed  into  selfishness  by  the  torpedo 
touch  of  extreme  want.  Domestic  atlections  depend  on  asso- 
ciation. We  love  an  object  if,  as  often  as  we  see  or  recollect 
it,  an  agreeable  sensation  arises  in  our  minds.  But  alas  !  how 
should  he  glow  with  the  charities  of  father  and  husband,  who 
gaining  scarcely  more  than  liis  own  necessities  demand,  must 
have  been  accustomed  to  regard  his  wife  and  children,  not  as 
'the  soothers  of  finished  labor,  but  as  rivals  for  the  insufficient 
meal !  In  a  man  so  circumstanced  the  tyranny  of  the  Present 
can  be  overpowered  only  by  the  ten-fold  mightiness  of  the  Fu- 
ture. Religion  will  cheer  his  gloom  with  her  promises,  and  by 
habituating  his  mind  to  anticipate  an  infinitely  great  Revolution 
hereafter,  may  prepare  it  even  for  the  sudden  reception  of  a 
less  degree  of  amelioration  in  this  world. 

But  if  we  hope  to  instruct  others,  we  should  familiarize  our 
own  minds  to  some  fixed  and  determinate  principles  of  action. 
The  world  is  a  vast  labyrinth,  in  which  almost  every  one  is 
running  a  different  way,  and  almost  every  one  manifesting  ha- 
tred to  those  who  do  not  run  the  same  way.  A  few  indeed 
stand  motionless,  and  not  seeking  to  lead  themselves  or  others 
out  of  the  maze,  laugh  at  the  failures  of  their  brethren.  Yet 
with  little  reason  :  for  more  grossly  than  the  most  bewildered 
wanderer  does  he  err,  who  never  aims  to  go  right.     It  is  more 


293 

honorable  to  the  head,  as  well  as  to  the  heart,  to  be  misled  by 
our  eagerness  in  the  pursuit  of  Truth,  than  to  be  safe  from 
blundering  by  contempt  of  it.  The  happiness  of  mankind  is  the 
end  of  virtue,  and  truth  is  the  knowledge  of  the  means  ;  which 
he  will  never  seriously  attempt  to  discover,  who  has  not  habitu- 
ally interested  himself  in  the  welfare  of  others.  The  searcher 
after  truth  must  love  and  be  beloved  ;  for  general  benevolence 
is  a  necessary  motive  to  constancy  of  pursuit ;  and  this  general 
benevolence  is  begotten  and  rendered  permanent  by  social  and 
domestic  affections.  Let  us  beware  of  that  proud  philosophy, 
which  affects  to  inculcate  philanthropy  while  it  denounces  every 
home-born  feeling  by  which  it  is  produced  and  nurtured.  The 
paternal  and  filial  duties  discipline  the  heart  and  prepare  it  for 
the  love  of  all  mankind.  The  intensity  of  private  attachments 
encourages,  not  prevents,  universal  Benevolence.  The  nearer 
we  approach  to  the  sun,  the  more  intense  his  heat :  yet  what 
corner  of  the  system  does  he  not  cheer  and  vivify  ?  "^ 

The  m.an  who  would  find  Truth,  must  likewise  seek  it  with 
an  humble  and  simple  heart,  otherwise  he  will  be  precipitant 
and  overlook  it ;  or  he  will  be  prejudiced,  and  refuse  to  see  it. 
To  emancipate  itself  from  the  tyranny  of  association,  is  the 
most  arduous  effort  of  the  mind,  particularly  in  religious  and 
political  disquisitions.  The  assertors  of  the  system  have  asso- 
ciated with  it  the  preservation  of  order  and  public  virtue ;  the 
oppugner  of  imposture  and  wars  and  rapine.  Hence,  when 
they  dispute,  each  trembles  at  the  consequences  of  the  other's 
opinions  instead  of  attending  to  his  train  of  arguments.  Of 
this  however  we  may  be  certain,  whether  we  be  Christians  or 
Infidels,  Aristocrats  or  Republicans,  that  our  minds  are  in  a 
state  unsusceptible  of  Knowledge,  when  we  feel  an  eagerness 
to  detect  the  falsehood  of  an  adversary's  reasonings,  not  a  sin- 
cere wish  to  discover  if  there  be  Truth  in  them  ; — when  we  ex- 
amine an  argument  in  order  that  we  may  answer  it,  instead  of 
answering  because  we  have  examined  it. 

Our  opponents  are  chiefly  successful  in  confuting  the  Theory 
of  Freedom  by  the  practices  of  its  advocates  :  from  our  lives 
they  draw  the  most  forcible  arguments  against  our  doctrines. 
Nor  have  they  adopted  an  unfair  mode  of  reasoning.  In  a 
science  the  evidence  suffers  neither  diminution  or  increase  from 
the  actions  of  its  professors  ;  but  the  comparative  wisdom  of 
political  systems   depends  necessarily  on  the  manners  and  ca- 


294      „ 

pacities  of  the  recipients.    Why  should  all  things  be  thrown  in- 
to confusion  to  acquire   that  liberty  which  a  faction  of  sensual- 
ists and  gamblers  will   neither  be   able   or  willing  to  preserve  ? 
A  system  of  fundamental  Reform  will  scarcely  be  effected  by 
massacres  mechanized  into   Revolution.     We  cannot  therefore 
inculcate  on  the  minds  of  each  other  too  often  or  with  too  great 
earnestness   the   necessity  of  cultivating  benevolent  affections. 
We  should  be   cautious   how  we  indulge  the  feelings  even  of 
virtuous  indignation.     Indignation  is  the  handsome  brother  of 
Anger  and  Hatred.    The  temple  of  Despotism,  like  that  of  Tes- 
calipoca,  the  Mexican  deity  is  built  of  human  skulls,  and  ce- 
mented  with   human  blood ; — let   us  beware   that   we  be   not 
transported  into  revenge  while  we  are  levelling  the  loathsome 
pile  ;  lest  when  we   erect  the  edifice  of  Freedom  we  but  vary 
the  style  of  architecture,  not  change  the  materials.     Let  us  not 
wantonly   offend  even  the  prejudices  of  our  weaker  brethren, 
nor  by  ill-timed  and  vehement  declarations  ol  opinion  excite  in 
them  malignant  feelings  towards  us.     The    energies  of  mind 
are  wasted  in  these  intemperate  effusions.     Those  materials  of 
projectile  force,  which  now   carelessly  scattered  explode  with 
an  offensive  and   useless   noise,  directed  by  wisdom  and  union 
might   heave  rocks  from    their   base, — or  perhaps  (dismissing 
the   metaphor)   might   produce   the   desired   effect  without  the 
jconvulsion. 

For  this  "  subdued  sobriety"  of  temper  a  practical  faith  in 
the  doctrine  of  philosophical  necessity  seems  the  only  prepara- 
tive. That  vice  is  the  effect  of  error  and  the  offspring  of  sur- 
rounding circumstsnces,  the  object  therefore  of  condolence  not 
of  anger,  is  a  proposition  easily  understood,  and  as  easily  dem- 
onstrated. But  to  make  it  spread  from  the  understanding  to 
the  affections,  to  call  it  into  action,  not  only  in  the  great  exer- 
tions of  patriotism,  but  in  the  daily  and  hourly  occurrences  of 
social  life,  requires  the  most  watchful  attentions  of  the  most 
energetic  mind.  It  is  not  enough  that  we  have  once  swallowed 
these  truths — we  must  feed  on  them,  as  insects  on  a  leaf,  till  the 
whole  heart  be  coloured  by  their  qualities,  and  shew  its  food 
in  every  the  minutest  fibre. 

Finally;  in  the  words  of  an  Apostle, 

Watch  ye  !  Stand  fast  in  the  principles  of  which  ye  have 
been  convinced  :  Quit  yourselves  like  men  !  Be  strong  !  Yet  let 
all  things  be  done  in  the  spirit  of  love. 


THE 


SECOND 


I.  A  N  D  I K  G-P  L.  A  C  E 


OR 


ESSAYS 


INTERPOSED 


FOR    AMUSEMENT,    RETROSPECT, 


PREPARATION. 


MISCELLANY   THE   SECOND. 


Etiam  a  musis  si  quando  animiim  paulisper  abducamus,  apud  Musas  nihil- 
ominus  feriamur:  at  reclines  quidem,  at  otiosas,  at  de  his  etillis  inter  se  libere 
coUoquentes. 


ESSAY    1. 


It  were  a  wantonness  ami  would  demand 

Severe  reproof  if  we  were  men  whose  hearts 

Could  hold  vain  dalliance  with  the  misery 

Even  of  the  dead ;  contented  thence  to  draw 

A  momentary  pleasure,  never  mark'd 

By  reason,  barren  of  all  future  good. 

IJut  we  have  known  that  there  is  often  found 

In  mournful  thoughts,  and  always  might  be  found 

A  power  to  virtue  friendly. Wordsworth.  MSS. 


I  know  not  how  I  can  better  commence  my  second  Landing 
Place,  as  joining  on  to  the  section  of  Politics,  than  by  the  fol- 
lowing proof  of  the  severe  miseries  which  misgovernment  may 
occasion  in  a  country  nominally  free.  In  the  homely  ballad  of 
the  Three  Graves  (published  in  my  Sybilline  Leaves)  I 
have  attempted  to  exemplify  the  effect,  which  one  painful  idea 
vividly  impressed  on  the  mind  under  unusual  circumstances, 
might  have  in  producing  an  alienation  of  the  understanding  ; 
and  in  the  parts  hitherto  published,  I  have  endeavored  to  trace 
the  progress  to  madness,  step  by  step.  But  though  the  main 
incidents  are  facts,  the  detail  of  the  circumstances  is  of  my 
own  invention :  that  is,  not  what  I  knew,  but  what  I  con- 
ceived likely  to  have  been  the  case,  or  at  least  equivalent  to 
it.  In  the  tale  that  follows,  I  present  an  instance  of  the  same 
causes  acting  upon  the  mind  to  the  production  of  conduct  as 
wild  as  that  of  madness,  but  without  any  positive  or  permanent 
loss  of  the  Reason  or  the  Understanding ;  and  this  in  a  real 
occurrence,  real  in  all  its  parts  and  particulars.  But  in  truth 
this  tale  overflows  with  a  human  interest,  and  needs  no  philo- 
sophical deduction  to  make  it  impressive.  The  account  was  pub- 
lished in  the  city  in  which  the  event  took  place,  and  in  the 
same  year  I  read  it,  when  I  was  in  Germany,  and  the  impres- 
38 


298 

sion  made  on  my  memory  was  so  deep,  that  though  I  relate  it 
in  my  own  language,  and  with  my  own  feelings,  and  in  reliance 
on  the  fidelity  of  my  recollection,  I  dare  vouch  for  the  accura- 
cy of  the  narration  in  all  important  particulars. 

The  imperial  free  towns  of  Germany  are,  with  only  two  or 
three  exceptions,  enviably  distinguished  by  the  virtuous  and 
primitive  manners  of  the  citizens,  and  by  the  parental  charac- 
ter of  their  several  governments.  As  exceptions,  however  ,we 
must  mention  Aix  la  Chapelle,  poisoned  by  French  manners, 
and  the  concourse  of  gamesters  and  sharpers;  and  Nurem- 
berg, whose  industrious  and  honest  inhabitants  deserve  a  better 
fate  than  to  have  their  lives  and  properties  under  the  guardian- 
ship of  a  wolfish  and  merciless  oligarchy,  proud  from  ignorance, 
and  remaining  ignorant  through  pride.  It  is  from  the  small 
States  of  Germany,  that  our  writers  on  political  economy  might 
draw  their  most  forcible  instances  of  actually  oppressive,  and 
even  mortal,  taxation,  and  gain  the  clearest  insight  into  the 
causes  and  circumstances  of  the  injury.  One  other  remark, 
and  I  proceed  to  the  story.  I  well  remember,  that  the  event 
I  am  about  to  narrate,  called  forth,  in  several  of  the  German 
periodical  publications,  the  most  passionate  (and  in  more  than 
one  instance,  blasphemous)  declamations,  concerning  the  in- 
comprehensibility of  the  moral  government  of  the  world,  and 
the  seeming  injustice  and  cruelty  of  the  dispensations  of  Provi- 
dence. But,  assuredly,  every  one  of  my  readers,  however 
deeply  he  may  sympathize  with  the  poor  suflferers,  will  at  once 
answer  all  such  declamations  by  the  simple  reflection,  that  no 
one  of  these  awful  events  could  possibly  have  taken  place  un- 
der a  wise  police  and  humane  government,  and  that  men  have 
no  right  to  complain  of  Providence  for  evils  which  they  them- 
selves are  competent  to  remedy  by  mere  common  sense,  join- 
ed with  mere  common  humanity. 

Maria  Eleonora  Schoning,  was  the  daughter  of  a  Nu- 
remberg wire-drawer.  She  received  her  unhappy  existence  at 
the  price  of  her  mother's  life,  and  at  the  age  of  seventeen  she 
followed,  as  the  sole  mourner,  the  bier  of  her  remaining  parent. 
From  her  thirteenth  year  she  had  passed  her  life  at  her  father's 
sick-bed,  the  gout  having  deprived  him  of  the  use  of  his  limbs: 
and  beheld  the  arch  of  heaven  only  when  she  went  to  fetch 
food  or  medicines.     The  discharge  of  her  filial  duties  occupied 


299 

fne  whole  of  her  time  and  all  her  thoughts.  She  was  his  only 
nurse,  and  for  the  last  two  years  they  lived  without  a  servant. 
She  prepared  his  scanty  meal,  she  bathed  his  aching  limbs,  and 
though  weak  and  delicate  from  constant  confinement  and  the 
poison  of  melancholy  thoughts,  she  had  acquired  an  unusual 
power  in  her  arms,  from  the  habit  of  lifting  her  old  and  suffer- 
ing father  out  of  and  into  his  bed  of  pain.  Thus  passed  away 
her  early  youth  in  sorrow  :  she  grew  up  in  tears,  a  stranger  to 
the  amusements  of  youth,  and  its  more  delightful  schemes  and 
imaginations.  She  was  not,  however  unhappy  :  she  attributed, 
indeed,  no  merit  to  herself  for  her  virtues,  but  for  that  reason 
were  they  the  more  her  reward.  The  peace  which  passeih  all 
understanding,  disclosed  itself  in  all  her  looks  and  movements. 
It  lay  on  her  countenence,  like  a  steady  unshadow^ed  moon- 
light ;  and  her  voice,  which  was  naturally  at  once  sweet  and  sub- 
tle, came  from  her,  like  the  fine  flute-tones  of  a  masterly  perfor- 
mer which  still  floating  at  some  uncertain  distance,  seem  to  be 
created  by  the  player,  rather  than  to  proceed  from  the  instru- 
ment. If  you  had  listened  to  it  in  one  of  those  brief  sabbaths  of 
the  soul,  wdien  the  activity  and  discursiveness  of  the  thoughts 
are  suspended,  and  the  mind  quietly  eddies  round,  instead  of 
flowing  onward — (as  at  late  evening  in  the  spring  I  have  seen 
a  bat  wheel  in  silent  circles  round  and  round  a  fruit-tree  in  full 
blossom,  in  the  midst  of  which,  as  within  a  close  tent  of  the 
purest  white,  an  unseen  nightingale  was  piping  its  sweetest 
notes) — in  such  a  mood  you  might  have  half-fancied,  half-felt, 
that  her  voice  had  a  separate  being  of  its  own — that  it  was  a 
living  something,  whose  mode  of  existence  was  for  the  ear  on- 
ly :  so  deep  was  her  resignation,  so  entirely  had  it  become  the 
unconscious  habit  of  her  nature,  and  in  all  she  did  or  said,  so 
perfectly  were  both  her  inoveraents  and  her  utterance  without 
effort  and  without  the  appearance  of  effort !  Her  dying  father's 
last  words,  addressed  to  the  clergyman  who  attended  him,  were 
his  grateful  testimony,  that  during  his  long  and  sore  trial  his 
good  Maria  had  behaved  to  him  like  an  angel :  that  the  most 
disagreeable  offices  and  the  least  suited  to  her  age  and  sex, 
had  never  drawai  an  unwilling  look  from  her,  and  that  whenev- 
er his  eye  had  met  her's,  he  had  been  sure  to  see  in  it  either 
the  tear  of  pity  or  the  sudden  smile  expressive  of  her  affection 
and  wish  to  cheer  him.  God  (said  he)  will  reward  the  good  girl 
for  all  her  long  dutifulness  to  me  !     He  departed  during  the  in- 


0 


300 

ward  prayer,  which  followed  these  his  last  words.  His  wish 
will  be  fulfilled  in  eternity  ;  but  for  this  world  the  prayer  of 
the  dying  man  was  not  heard  ! 

Maria  sate  and  wept  by  the  grave,  which  now  contained  her 
father,  her  friend,  the  only  bond  by  which  she  was  linked  to 
life.  But  while  yet  the  last  sound  of  his  death-bell  was  mur- 
muring away  in  the  air,  she  was  obliged  to  return  with  two 
^^  Revenue  Officers,  who  demanded  entrance  into  the  house,  in 
f  I  order  to  take  possession  of  the  papers  of  the  deceased,  and  from 
.^  them  to  discover  whether  he  had  always  given  in  his  income, 
and  paid  the  yearly  income  tax  according  to  his  oath,  and  in 
proportion  to  his  property.*  After  the  few  documents  had  been 
looked  through  and  collated  with  the  registers,  the  officers 
found,  or  pretended  to  find,  sufficient  proofs,  that  the  deceased 
had  not  paid  his  tax  proportionably,  which  imposed  on  them  the 
duty  to  put  all  the  effects  under  lock  and  seal.  They  therefore 
desired  the  maiden  to  retire  to  an  empty  room,  till  the  Ransom 
Office  had  decided  on  the  affair.  Bred  up  in  suffering,  and  ha- 
bituated to  immediate  compliance,  the  affrighted  and  weeping 
maiden  obeyed.  She  hastened  to  the  empty  garret,  while  the 
Revenue  Officers  placed  the  lock  and  seal  upon  the  other  doors, 
and  finally  took  away  the  papers  to  the  Ransom  Office. 

Not  before  evening  did  the  poor  faint  Maria,  exhausted  with 
weeping,  rouse  herself  with  the  intention  of  going  to  her  bed  : 
hut  she  found  the  door  of  her  chamber  sealed  up  and  must  pass 
the  night  on  the  floor  of  the  garret.  The  officers  had  had  the 
humanity  to  place  at  the  door  the  small  portion  of  food  that  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  house.     Thus  passed  several  days,  till  the 

*This  tax  called  the  Losiing  or  Ransom,  in  Niiremhiirg,  was  at  first  a  vo- 
luntary pontrilnition  :  every  one  gave  according  to  his  liking  or  circumstances 
but  in  the  beginning  of  the  15th  century  the  heavy  contribution  levied  for  the 
sei-vice  of  the  empire,  forced  the  magistrates  to  determine  the  proportions  and 
make  the  payment  compulsory.  At  the  time  in  which  this  event  took  place, 
1787,  every  citizen  must  yearly  take  what  was  called  his  Ransom  Oath  (Los- 
ungseid)  that  the  sum  paid  liy  him  had  been  in  the  strict  determinate  j)ropor- 
tion  to  his  property.  On  the  death  of  any  citizen,  the  Ransom  OHice,  or 
commissioners  for  this  income  or  property  tax,  possess  tlie  right  to  examine 
his  books  and  papers,  and  to  comi^are  liis  yearly  payment  as  found  in  their 
registers  with  the  property  he  appears  to  have  possessed  during  that  time.  If 
any  disproj)ortion  appeared,  if  the  yearly  declarations  of  tlie  deceased  should 
have  been  inaccinate  in  the  least  degree,  hia  whole  effects  are  confiscated,  and 
though  he  should  have  left  wife  and  child  the  state  treasury  becomes  his  heir. 


301 

officers  returned  with  an  order  that  Maria  Elenora  Schoning 
should  leave  the  house  without  delay,  the  commission  Court 
having  confiscated  the  whole  property  to  the  City  Treasury. 
The  father  before  he  was  bed-ridden  had  never  possessed  any 
considerable  property;  but  yet,  by  his  industry,  had  been  able 
not  only  to  keep  himself  free  from  debt,  but  to  lay  up  a  small 
sum  for  the  evil  day.  Three  years  of  evil  days,  three  whole 
years  of  sickness,  had  consumed  the  greatest  part  of  this  ;  yet 
still  enough  remained  not  only  to  defend  his  daughter  from  im- 
mediate want,  but  likewise  to  maintain  her  till  she  could  get 
into  some  service  or  employment,  and  have  recovered  her  spi- 
rits sufficiently  to  bear  up  against  the  hardships  of  life.  With 
this  thought  the  dying  father  comforted  himself,  and  this  hope 
too  proved  vain  ! 

A  timid  girl,  whose  past  life  had  been  made  up  of  sorrow  and 
privation,  she  went  indeed  to  solicit  the  commissioners  in  her 
own  behalf;  but  these  were,  as  is  mostly  the  case  on  the  Con- 
tinent, advocates — the  most  hateful  class,  perhaps,  of  human 
society,  hardened  by  the  frequent  sight  of  misery,  and  seldom 
superior  in  moral  character  to  English  pettifoggers  or  Old  Bai- 
ley attornies.  She  went  to  them,  indeed,  but  not  a  word  could 
she  say  for  herself.  Her  tears  and  inarticulate  sounds — for  these 
her  judges  had  no  ears  or  eyes.  Mute  and  confounded,  like  an 
unfledged  dove  fallen  out  from  its  mother's  nest,  Maria  betook 
herself  to  her  home,  and  found  the  house  door  too  now  shut  up- 
on her.  Her  whole  wealth  consisted  in  the  clothes  she  wore. 
She  had  no  relations  to  whom  she  could  apply,  for  those  of  her 
mother  had  disclaimed  all  acquaintance  with  her,  and  her  father 
was  a  Nether  Saxon  by  birth.  She  had  no  acquaintance,  for  all 
the  friends  of  old  Schoning  had  forsaken  him  in  the  first  year  of 
his  sickness.  She  had  no  play-fellow,  for  who  was  likely  to 
have  been  the  companion  of  a  nurse  in  the  room  of  a  sick  man  ? 
Surely,  since  the  creation  never  was  a  human  being  more  soli- 
tary and  forsaken,  than  this  innocent  poor  creature,  that  now 
roamed  about  friendless  in  a  populous  city,  to  the  whole  of 
whose  inhabitants  her  filial  tenderness,  her  patient  domestic 
goodness,  and  all  her  soft  yet  difficult  virtues,  might  well  have 
been  the  model. 

"  But  homeless  near  a  thousand  houios  she  stood, 
And  near  a  thousand  tables  pin'd  and  wonted  food  !" 


302 

The  night  came,  and  Maria  knew  not  where  to  find  a  shelter. 
She  tottered  to  the  church-yard  of  the  St.  James'  church  in 
Nuremberg,  where  the  body  of  her  father  rested.  Upon  the 
yet  grassless  grave  she  threw  herself  down  ;  and  could  anguish 
have  prevailed  over  youth,  that  night  she  had  been  in  heaven. 
The  day  came,  and  like  a  guilty  thing,  this  guiltless,  this  good 
being,  stole  away  from  the  crowd  that  began  to  pass  through  the 
church-yard,  and  hastening  through  the  streets  to  the  city  gate, 
she  hid  herself  behind  a  garden  hedge  just  beyond  it,  and  there 
wept  away  the  second  day  of  her  desolation.  The  evening  clo- 
sed in  :  the  pang  of  hunger  made  itself  felt  amid  the  dull  ach- 
ing of  self-wearied  anguish,  and  drove  the  sufferer  back  again 
into  the  city.  Yet  what  could  she  gain  there  ?  She  had  not  the 
courage  to  beg,  and  the  very  thought  of  stealing  never  occurred 
to  her  innocent  mind.  Scarce  conscious  whither  she  was  going, 
or  why  she  went,  she  found  herself  once  more  by  her  father's 
grave,  as  the  last  relict  of  evening  faded  away  in  the  horizon. 
I  have  sate  for  some  minutes  with  my  pen  resting  :  I  can  scarce 
summon  the  courage  to  tell,  what  I  scarce  know,  whether  I 
ought  to  tell.  Were  I  composing  a  tale  of  fiction,  the  reader 
might  justly  suspect  the  purity  of  my  own  heart,  and  most  cer- 
tainly would  have  abundant  right  to  resent  such  an  incident,  as 
an  outrage  wantonly  offered  to  his  imagination.  As  I  think  of 
the  circumstance,  it  seems  more  like  a  distempered  dream  :  but 
alas  !  what  is  guilt  so  detestable  other  than  a  dream  of  madness, 
that  worst  madness,  the  madness  of  the  heart  ?  I  cannot  but  be- 
lieve, that  the  dark  and  restless  passions  must  first  have  drawn 
the  mind  in  upon  themselves,  and  as  with  the  confusion  of  im- 
perfect sleep,  have  in  some  strange  manner  taken  away  the 
sense  of  reality,  in  order  to  render  it  possible  for  a  human  being 
to  perpetrate  what  it  is  too  certain  that  human  beings  have  per- 
petrated. The  church-yards  in  most  of  the  German  cities,  and  too 
often,  I  fear  in  those  of  our  own  country,  are  not  more  injurious 
to  health  than  to  morality.  Their  former  venerable  character 
is  no  more.  The  religion  of  the  place  has  followed  its  super- 
stitions, and  their  darkness  and  loneliness  tempt  worse  spirits 
to  roam  in  them  than  those  whose  nightly  wanderings  appalled 
the  believing  hearts  of  our  biave  fore-fathers  !  It  was  close  by  the 
new-made  grave  of  her  father,  that  the  meek  and  spotless  daugh- 
ter became  the  victim  to  brutal  violence,  which  weeping  and 
watching  and  cold  and  hunger  had  rendered  her  utterly  unable 


303 

to  resist.  The  monster  left  her  in  a  trance  of  stupefaction,  and 
into  her  right  hand,  which  she  had  clenched  convulsively,  he  had 
forced  a  half-dollar. 

It  was  one  of  the  darkest  nights  of  autumn  :  in  the  deep  and 
dead  silence  the  only  sounds  audible  were  the  slow  blunt  tick- 
in"-  of  the  church  clock,  and  now  and  then  the  sinking  down  of 
boaes  in  the  nigh  charnel  house.     Maria,  when  she  had  in  some 
degree  recovered  her  senses,  sate  upon  the  grave  near  which — 
not  her  innocenoe  had  been  sacrificed,  but  that  which,  from  the 
frequent  admonitions,  and  almost  the  dying  words  of  her  father, 
she  had  been   accustomed  to  consider  as  such.     Guiltless,  she 
felt  the  pangs  of  guilt,  and  still  continued    tp  grasp  the  coin, 
which  the  monster  had  left  in  her  hand,  with  an  anguish  as  sore 
as  if  it  had  been  indeed  the  wages  of  voluntary  prostitution. 
Giddy  and  faint  from  want  of  food,  her  brain  became  feverish 
from  sleeplessness,  and  this  unexampled  concurrence  of  calami- 
ties, this  complication  and   entanglement  of  misery  in  misery  ! 
she  imagined  that  she  heard  her  father's  voice  bidding  her  leave 
his  sight.     His  last  blessings   had   been  conditional,   for  in  his 
last  hours  he  had  told  her,  that  the  loss  of  her  innocence  would 
not  let  him  rest  quiet  in   his   grave.     His   last  blessings   now 
sounded  in  her  ears  like  curses,  and  she  fled  from  the  church- 
yard as  if  a  dsemon  had  been  chasing  her;  and  hurrying  along 
the  streets,  through  which  it  is  probable  her  accursed  violator 
had  walked  with  quiet  and  orderly  step*   to  his  place  of  rest 


*  It  must  surely  have  been  after  hearing  of  or  witnessing  some  similar 
event  or  scene  of  wretcliedness,  that  the  most  eloquent  of  our  Writers  (I  had 
almost  said  of  our  Poets)  Jeremy  Taylor,  M'rote  the  following  paragraph, 
which  at  least  in  Longinus's  sense  of  the  word,  we  may  place  among  the  most 
sublime  ])assages  in  English  Literature.  "He  that  is  no  fool,  but  can  consider 
wisely,  if  he  be  in  love  with  this  world  we  need  not  despair  but  that  a  witty 
man  might  reconcile  liim  with  tortures,  and  make  him  think  charitably  of  the 
rack,  and  be  brought  to  admire  the  harmony  that  is  made  by  a  herd  of  eve- 
ning wolves  when  they  miss  their  draught  of  blood  in  their  midnight  revels. 
The  groans  of  a  man  in  a  fit  of  the  stone  are  worse  than  all  these  ;  and  the 
distractions  of  a  troubled  conscience  are  woi-se  than  those  groans  :  andyet  a 
careless  merry  sinner  is  ivorse  than  all  that.  But  if  we  could  from  one  of  the 
battlements  of  Heaven  espy,  how  many  men  and  women  at  this  time  lie 
fainting  and  dying  for  want  of  bread,  how  many  young  men  are  hewn  down 
by  the  sword  of  war ;  how  many  orphans  ai-e  now  weeping  over  the  graves 
of  their  fiither,  by  whose  life  they  were  enabled  to  eat ;  if  we  could  but  hear 
how  many  mariners  and  passengers  arc  at  this  present  time  in  a  storm,  and 


304 

and  security,  she  was  seized  by  the  watchman  of  the  night — a 
welcome  prey,  as  they  receive  in  Nuremburg  half  a  gulden  from 
the  police  chest,  for  every  woman  that  they  find  Jn  the  streets 
after  ten  o'clock  at  night.  It  was  midnight,  and  she  was  taken 
to  the  next  watch-house. 

The  sitting  magistrate,  before  whom  she  was  carried  the  next 
morning,  prefaced  his  first  question  with  the  most  opprobrious 
title  that  ever  belonged  to  the  most  hardened  street-walkers, 
and  which  man  born  of  woman  should  not  address  even  to  these, 
were  it  but  for  his  own  sake.  The  frightful  name  awakened 
the  poor  orphan  from  her  dream  of  guilt,  it  brought  back  the 
consciousness  of  her  innocence,  but  with  it  the  sense  likewise 
of  her  wrongs  and  of  her  helplessness.  The  cold  hand  of  death 
seemed  to  grasp  her,  she  fainted  dead  away  at  his  feet,  and  w^as 
not  without  difficulty  recovered.  The  magistrate  was  so  far 
softened,  and  only  so  far,  as  to  dismiss  her  for  the  present ;  but 
with  a  menace  of  sending  her  to  the  House  of  Correction  if 
she  were  brought  before  him  a  second  time.  The  idea  of  her 
own  innocence  now  became  uppermost  in  her  mind  ;  but  min- 
gling with  the  thought  of  her  utter  forlornness,  and  the  image  of 
her  angry  father,  and  doubtless  still  in  a  state  of  bewilderment, 
she  formed  the  resolution  of  drowning  herself  in  the  river  Peg- 
nitz — in  order  (for  this  was  the  shape  which  her  fancy  had  ta- 
ken) to  throw  herself  at  her  father's  feet,  and  to  justify  her  in- 
nocence to  him  in  the  World  of  Spirits.  She  hoped  that  her 
father  would  speak  for  her  to  the  Saviour,  and  that  she  should 
be  forgiven.  But  as  she  was  passing  through  the  suburb,  she 
was  met  by  a  soldier's  wife,  who  during  the  life-time  of  her 
father  had  been  occasionally  employed  in  the  house  as  a  chare- 
woman.  This  poor  woman  was  startled  at  the  disordeied  ap- 
parel, and  more  disordered  looks  of  her  young  mistress,  and 
questioned  her  with  such  an  anxious  and  heartfelt  tenderness, 
as  at  once  brought  back  the  poor  orphan  to  her  natural  feelings 


shriek  out  bccaiisn  their  keel  dashes  against  a  rock,  or  bulges  under  them  ; 
how  many  pcoi)lc  there  are  that  weep  with  want,  and  are  mad  with  oppres- 
sion, or  are  (les})erateby  a  too  quick  sense  of  a  constant  intrlicity  ;  in  all  rea- 
son we  should  he  glatl  to  he  out  of  the  noise  and  iiarlicipation  of  so  many 
evils.  This  is  a  place  of  sorrows  and  tears,  of  great  evils  and  constant  cala- 
mities: let  us  remove  hence,  ut  least  in  aftcctions  and  preparations  of  mind. 

Holy  Dying,  Chap.  1.  Sect  5 


305 

and  the  obligations  of  religion.  As  a  frightened  child  throws' 
itself  into  the  arms  of  its  mother,  and  hiding  its  head  on  her 
breast,  half  tells  amid  sobs  what  has  happened  to  it,  so  did  she 
throw  herself  on  the  neck  of  the  woman  who  had  uttered  the 
the  first  words  of  kindness  to  her  since  her  father's  death,  and 
with  loud  weeping  she  related  what  she  had  endured  and  what 
she  was  about  to  have  done,  told  her  all  her  affliction  andmise- 
7'y,  the  wonmvood  and  the  gall !  Her  kind-hearted  friend  min- 
gled tears  with  tears,  pressed  the  poor  forsaken-one  to  her 
heart ;  comforted  her  with  sentences  out  of  the  hymn-book ; 
and  with  the  most  affectionate  entreaties  conjured  her  to  give 
up  her  horrid  purpose,  for  that  life  was  short,  and  heaven  was 
forever. 

Maria  had  been  bred  up  in  the  fear  of  God  :  she  now  trem- 
bled at  the  thought  of  her  former  purpose,  and  followed  her 
friend  Harlin,  for  that  was  the  name  of  her  guardian  angel,  to 
her  home  hard  by.  The  moment  she  entered  the  door  she 
sank  down  and  lay  at  her  full  length,  as  if  only  to  be  motion- 
less in  a  place  of  shelter  had  been  the  fulness  of  delight.  As 
when  a  withered  leaf,  that  has  been  long  whirled  about  by  the 
gusts  of  autumn,  is  blown  into  a  cave  or  hollow  tree,  it  stops 
suddenly,  and  all  at  once  looks  the  very  image  of  quiet — such 
might  this  poor  orphan  appear  to  the  eye  of  a  meditative  ima- 
agination. 

A  place  of  shelter  she  had  attained,  and  a  friend  willing  to 
comfort  her,  all  that  she  could  :  but  the  noble-hearted  Harlin 
was  herself  a  daughter  of  calamity,  one  who  from  year  to  year 
must  lie  down  in  weariness  and  rise  up  to  labour  ;  for  whom 
this  world  provides  no  other  comfort  but  sleep  which  enables 
them  to  forget  it ;  no  other  physician  but  death,  which  takes 
them  out  of  it !  She  was  married  to  one  of  the  city  guards,  who, 
like  Maria's  father,  had  been  long  sick  and  bed-ridden.  Him, 
herself,  and  two  little  children,  she  had  to  maintain  by  wash- 
ing and  charing;*  and  sometime  after  Maria  had  been  do- 
mesticated with  them,  Harlin  told  her  that  she  herself  had  been 
once  driven  to  a  desperate  thought  by  the  cry  of  her  hungry 
children,  during  a  want  of  employment,  and  that  she  had  been 

*  I  am  ignorant,  whether  there  be  any  classical  authority  for  tliis  word ;  but 
I  know  no  other  word  that  expresses  occaBional  day  labor  in  the  houses  of 
others. 

39 


306 

on  the  point  of  killing  one  of  the  little-ones,  and  then  surren- 
dering herself  into  the  hands  of  justice.  In  this  manner,  she  had 
conceived,  all  would  be  well  provided  for ;  the  surviving  child 
would  be  admitted,  as  a  matter  of  course,  into  the  Orphan 
House,  and  her  husband  into  the  Hospital ;  while  she  herself 
would  have  atoned  for  her  act  by  a  public  execution,  and  together 
with  the  child  that  she  had  destroyed,  would  have  passed  into 
a  state  of  bliss.  All  this  she  related  to  Maria,  and  those  tragic 
ideas  left  but  too  deep  and  lasting  impression  on  her  mind. 
Weeks  after,  she  herself  renewed  the  conversation,  by  express- 
ing to  her  benefactress  her  inability  to  conceive  how  it  was 
possible  for  one  human  being  to  take  away  the  life  of  another, 
especially  that  of  an  innocent  little  child.  For  that  reason, 
replied  Harlin,  because  it  was  so  innocent  and  so  good,  I  wish- 
ed to  put  it  out  of  this  wicked  world.  Thinkest  thou  then  that 
I  would  have  my  head  cut  off'  for  the  sake  of  a  wicked  child  ? 
Therefore  it  was  little  Nan,  that  I  meant  to  have  taken  with 
me,  who,  as  you  see,  is  always  so  sweet  and  patient ;  little 
Frank  has  already  his  humours  aud  naughty  tricks,  and  suits 
better  for  this  world.  This  was  the  answer.  Maria  brooded 
awhile  over  it  in  silence,  then  passionately  snatched  the  child- 
ren up  in  her  arms,  as  if  she  would  protect  them  against  their 
own  mother. 

For  one  whole  year  the  orphan  lived  with  the  soldier's  wife, 
and  by  their  joint  labors  barely  kept  off"  absolute  want.  As  a 
little  boy  (almost  a  child  in  size,  though  in  his  thirteenth  year) 
once  told  me  of  himself,  as  he  was  guiding  me  up  the  Brocken, 
in  the  Hartz  Forest,  they  had  but  "  little  of  that,  of  which  a 
great  deal  tells  but  for  little.  But  now  came  the  second  win- 
ter, and  with  it  came  bad  times,  a  season  of  trouble  for  this 
poor  and  meritorious  household.  The  wife  now  fell  sick:  too 
constant  and  too  hard  labor,  too  scanty  and  too  innutritions  food, 
had  gradually  wasted  away  her  strength.  Maria  redoubled  her 
efforts  in  order  to  provide  bread  and  fuel  for  their  washing 
which  they  took  in  ;  but  the  task  was  above  her  powers.  Be- 
sides, she  was  so  timid  and  so  agitated  at  the  sight  of  stran- 
gers, that  sometimes,  with  the  best  good-will  she  was  left  with- 
out employment.  One  by  one,  every  article  of  the  least  value 
which  they  possessed  was  sold  off",  except  the  bed  on  which  the 
husband  lay.  He  died  just  before  the  approach  of  spring ;  but 
about  the  same  time  the  wife  gave  signs  of  convalescence.    The 


307 

physician,  though  almost  as  poor  as  his  patients,  had  been  kind 
to  them :  silver  and  gold  had  he  none,  but  he  occasionally 
brought  a  little  wine,  and  often  assured  them  that  nothing  was 
wanting  to  her  perfect  recovery,  but  better  nourishment  and  a 
little  wine  every  day.  This,  however,  could  not  be  regularly 
procured,  and  liarlin's  spirits  sank,  and  as  her  bodily  pain  left 
her  she  became  more  melancholy,  silent,  and  self-involved.  And 
now  it  was  that  Maria's  mind  was  incessantly  racked  by  the 
frightful  apprehension,  that  her  friend  might  be  again  medita- 
ting the  accomplishment  of  her  former  purpose.  She  had  grown 
as  passionately  fond  of  the  two  children  as  if  she  had  borne 
them  under  her  own  heart ;  but  the  jeopardy  in  which  she  con- 
ceived her  friend's  salvation  to  stand — this  was  her  predomin- 
ant thought.  For  all  the  hopes  and  fears,  which  under  a  hap- 
pier lot  would  have  been  associated  with  the  objects  of  the 
senses,  were  transferred,  by  Maria,  to  her  notions  and  images 
of  a  future  state. 

In  the  beginning  of  March,  one  bitter  cold  evening,  Maria  star- 
ted up  and  suddenly  left  the  house.  The  last  morsel  of  food 
had  been  divided  betwixt  the  two  children  for  their  breakfast ; 
and  for  the  last  hour  or  more  the  little  boy  had  been  crying  for 
hunger,  while  his  gentler  sister  had  been  hiding  her  face  in 
Maria's  lap,  and  pressing  her  little  body  against  her  knees,  in 
order  by  that  mechanic  pressure  to  dull  the  aching  from  empti- 
ness. The  tender-hearted  and  visionary  maiden  had  watched 
the  mother's  eye,  and  had  interpreted  several  of  her  sad  and 
steady  looks  according  to  her  preconceived  apprehensions. 
She  had  conceived  all  at  once  the  strange  and  enthusiastic 
thought,  that  she  would  in  some  way  or  other  offer  her  own 
soul  for  the  salvation  of  the  soul  of  her  friend.  The  money, 
which  had  been  left  in  her  hand,  flashed  upon  the  eye  of  her 
mind,  as  a  single  unconnected  image  :  and  faint  with  hunger 
and  shivering  with  cold,  she  sallied  forth — in  search  of  guilt ! 
Awful  are  the  dispensations  of  the  Supreme,  and  in  his  sever- 
est judgments  the  hand  of  mercy  is  visible.  It  was  a  night  so 
wild  with  wind  and  rain,  or  rather  rain  and  snow  mixed  toge- 
ther, that  a  famished  wolf  would  have  stayed  in  his  cave,  and 
listened  to  a  howl  more  fearful  than  his  own.  Forlorn  Maria  ! 
thou  wert  kneeling  in  pious  simplicity  at  the  grave  of  thy  fa- 
ther, and  thou  becamest  the  prey  of  a  monster !  Innocent  thou 
wert  and  without  guilt  didst  thou   remain.     Now  thou  goest 


308 

forth  of  thy  own  accord — but  God  will  have  pity  on  thee  ! 
Poor  bewildered  innocent !  in  thy  spotless  imagination  dwelt 
no  distinct  conception  of  the  evil  which  thou  wentest  forth  to 
brave  !  To  save  the  soul  of  thy  friend  was  the  dream  of  thy 
feverish  brain,  and  thou  wert  again  apprehended  as  an  outcast 
of  shameless  sensuality,  at  the  moment  when  thy  too  spirit- 
ualized fancy  was  busied  with  the  glorified  forms  of  thy  friend 
and  of  her  little  ones  interceding  for  thee  at  the  throne  of  the 
Redeemer ! 

At  this  moment  her  perturbed  fancy  suddenly  suggested  to  her 
a  new  mean  for  the  accomplishment  of  her  purpose :  and  she 
replied  to  the  night-watch,  who  with  a  brutal  laugh  bade  her 
expect  on  the  morrow  the  unmanly  punishment,  which  to  the 
disgrace  of  human  nature  the  laws  of  Protestant  states  (alas! 
even  those  of  our  own  country,)  inflict  on  female  vagrants,  that 
she  came  to  deliver  herself  up  as  an  infanticide.  She  was  in- 
stantly taken  before  the  magistrate,  through  as  wild  and  pitiless 
a  storm  as  ever  pelted  on  a  houseless  head  !  through  as  black 
and  "  tyrannous  a  night,^^  as  ever  aided  the  workings  of  a  heat- 
ed brain  !  Here  she  confessed  that  she  had  been  delivered 
of  an  infant  by  the  soldier's  wife,  Harlin,  that  she  deprived  it 
of  life  in  the  presence  of  Harlin,  and  according  to  a  plan  pre- 
concerted with  her,  and  that  Harlin  had  buried  it  somewhere 
in  the  w^ood,  but  where  she  knew  not.  During  this  strange  tale 
she  appeared  to  listen  with  a  mixture  of  fear  and  satisfaction, 
to  the  howling  of  the  wind  ;  and  never  sure  could  a  confession 
of  real  guilt  have  been  accompanied  by  a  more  dreadfully  ap- 
propriate music  !  At  the  moment  of  her  apprehension  she  had 
formed  the  scheme  of  helping  her  friend  out  of  the  world  in  a 
state  of  innocence.  When  the  soldier's  widow  was  confronted 
with  the  orphan,  and  the  latter  had  repeated  her  confession 
to  her  face,  Harlin  answered  in  these  words,  "For  God's  sake, 
Maria !  how  have  I  deserved  this  of  thee  ?"  Then  turning  to 
the  magistrate,  said,  "I  know  nothing  of  this."  This  was  the 
sole  answer  which  she  gave,  and  not  another  word  could  they 
extort  from  her.  The  instruments  of  torture  were  brought,  and 
Harlin  was  warned,  that  if  she  did  not  confess  of  her  own  ac- 
cord, the  truth  would  be  immediately  forced  from  her.  This 
menace  convulsed  Maria  Schoning  with  aff'right:  her  intention 
had  been  to  emancipate  herself  and  her  friend  from  a  life  of 
unmixed  suffering,  without  the  crime  of  suicide  in  either,  and 


309 

with  no  guilt  at  all  on  the  part  of  her  friend.  The  thought  of 
her  friend's  being  put  to  the  torture  had  not  occurred  to  her. 
Wildly  and  eagerly  she  pressed  her  friend's  hands,  already 
bound  in  preparation  for  the  torture — she  pressed  them  in  ago- 
ny between  her  own,  and  said  to  her,  "  Anna !  confess  it ! 
Anna,  dear  Anna !  it  will  then  be  well  with  all  of  us  !  all,  all 
of  us  !  and  Frank  and  little  Nan  will  be  put  into  the  Orphan 
House  !"  Maria's  scheme  now  passed,  like  a  flash  of  lightning 
through  the  widow's  mind,  she  acceded  to  it  at  once,  kissed  Ma- 
ria repeatedly,  and  then  serenely  turning  her  face  to  the  judge, 
acknowledged  that  she  had  added  to  the  guilt  by  so  obstinate  a 
denial,  that  all  her  friend  had  said,  had  been  true,  save  only 
that  she  had  thrown  the  dead  infant  into  the  river,  and  not  bu- 
ried it  in  the  wood. 

They  were  both  committed  to  prison,  and  as  they  both  perse- 
vered in  their  common  confession,  the  process  was  soon  made 
out  and  the  condemnation  followed  the  trial :  and  the  sentence, 
by  which  they  were  both  to  be  beheaded  with  the  sword,  was  or- 
dered to  be  put  in  force  on  the  next  day  but  one.  On  the  mor- 
ning of  the  execution,  the  delinquents  were  brought  together, 
in  order  that  they  might  be  reconciled  with  each  other,  and  join 
in  common  prayer  for  forgiveness  of  their  common  guilt. 

But  now  Maria's  thoughts  took  another  turn.  The  idea  that 
her  benefactress,  that  so  very  good  a  woman,  should  be  violent- 
ly put  out  of  life,  and  this  with  an  infamy  on  her  name  which 
would  cling  forever  to  the  little  orphans,  overpowered  her. 
Her  own  excessive  desire  to  die  scarcely  prevented  her  from 
discovering  the  whole  plan  ;  and  when  Harlin  was  left  alone 
with  her,  and  she  saw  her  friend's  calm  and  affectionate  look, 
her  fortitude  was  dissolved  :  she  burst  into  a  loud  and  passion- 
ate weeping,  and  throwing  herself  into  her  friend's  arms  ;  with 
convulsive  sobs  she  entreated  her  forgiveness.  Harlin  pressed 
the  poor  agonized  girl  to  her  arms;  like  a  tender  mother,  she 
kissed  and  fondled  her  wet  cheeks,  and  in  the  most  solemn  and 
emphatic  tones  assured  her,  that  there  was  nothing  to  forgive. 
On  the  contrary,  she  was  her  greatest  benefactress  and  the  in- 
strument of  God's  goodness  to  remove  her  at  once  from  a  mise- 
rable world  and  from  the  temptation  of  committing  a  heavy 
crime.  In  vain  !  Her  repeated  promises,  that  she  would  answer 
before  God  for  them  both,  could  not  pacify  the  tortured  con- 
science of  Maria,  till  at  length  the  presence  of  a  clergyman  and 


310 

the  preparations  for  receiving  the  sacrament  occasioning  the 
widow  to  address  her  thus — "  See,  Maria  !  this  is  the  Body  and 
Blood  of  Christ,  which  takes  away  all  sin  !  Let  us  partake  to- 
gether of  this  holy  repast  with  full  trust  in  God  and  joyful  hope 
of  our  approaching  happiness."  These  words  of  comfort,  ut- 
tered with  cheering  tones,  and  accompanied  with  a  look  of 
inexpressible  tenderness  and  serenity,  brought  back  peace  for 
a  while  to  her  troubled  spirit.  They  communicated  together, 
and  on  parting,  the  magnanimous  woman  once  more  embraced 
her  young  friend :  then  stretching  her  hand  toward  Heaven, 
said,  "Be  tranquil,  Maria  !  by  to-morrow  morning  we  are  there, 
and  all  our  sorrows  stay  here  behind  us." 

I  hasten  to  the  scene  of  execution  :  for  I  anticipate  my  read- 
er's feelings  in  the  exhaustion  of  my  own  heart.  Serene  and 
with  unaltered  countenance  the  lofty-minded  Harlin  heard  the 
strokes  of  the  death  bell,  stood  before  the  scaffold  while  the 
staff  was  broken  over  her,  and  at  length  ascended  the  steps, 
all  with  a  steadiness  and  tranquillity  of  manner  which  was  not 
more  distant  from  fear  than  from  defiance  and  bravado.  Alto- 
gether different  was  the  state  of  poor  Maria  :  with  shattered 
•nerves  and  an  agonizing  conscience  that  incessantly  accused 
Jier  as  the  murderess  of  her  friend,  she  did  not  walk  but  stag- 
gered towards  the  scaffold,  and  stumbled  up  the  steps.  While 
Harlin,  who  went  first,  at  every  step  turned  her  head  round  and 
still  whispered  to  her,  raising  her  eyes  to  heaven, — "but  a  few 
minutes,  Maria !  and  we  are  there  !"  On  the  scaffold  she  again 
bade  her  farewell,  again  repeating  "  Dear  Maria !  but  one  mi- 
nute now,  and  we  are  together  with  God."  But  when  she 
knelt  down  and  her  neck  v.^as  bared  for  the  stroke,  the  unhap- 
py girl  lost  all  self-command,  and  with  a  loud  and  piercing 
shriek  she  bade  them  hold  and  not  murder  the  innocent.  "  She 
is  innocent !  I  have  borne  false  witness  !  I  alone  am  the  mur- 
deress !"  She  rolled  herself  now  at  the  feet  of  the  execution- 
er, and  )iow  at  those  of  the  clergyman,  and  conjured  them  to 
stop  the  execution  :  that  the  whole  story  had  been  invented  by 
herself;  that  she  had  never  brought  forth,  much  less  destroyed, 
an  infant ;  that  for  her  friend's  sake  she  had  made  this  discove- 
ry ;  that  for  herself  she  wished  to  die,  and  would  die  gladly,  if 
they  would  take  away  her  friend,  and  promise  to  free  her  soul 
from  the  dreadful  agony  of  having  murdered  her  friend  by  false 
witness.     The   executioner  asked  Harlin,  if  there   were  any 


311 

truth  in  what  Maria  Schoning  had  said.  The  Heroine  answer- 
ed with  manifest  reluctance  :  "  most  assuredly  she  has  said  the 
truth:  I  confessed  myself  guilty,  because  I  wished  to  die  and 
thought  it  best  for  both  of  us  :  and  now  that  my  hope  is  on  the 
moment  of  its  accomplishment,  I  cannot  be  supposed  to  declare 
myself  innocent  for  the  sake  of  saving  my  life — but  any  wretch- 
edness is  to  be  endured  rather  than  that  poor  creature  should 
be  hurried  out  of  the  world  in  a  state  of  despair." 

The  outcry  of  the  attending  populace  prevailed  to  suspend 
the  execution  :  a  report  was  sent  to  the  assembled  magistrates, 
and  in  the  mean  time  one  of  the  priests  reproached  the  widow 
in  bitter  words  for  her  former  false  confession.  "  What,"  she 
replied  sternly  but  without  anger,  "  what  could  the  truth  have 
availed  ?  Before  I  perceived  my  friend's  purpose  I  did  deny  it : 
my  assurance  was  pronounced  an  impudent  lie  :  I  was  already 
bound  for  the  torture,  and  so  bound  that  the  sinews  of  my  liands 
started,  and  one  of  their  worships  in  the  large  white  peruke^ 
threatened  that  he  would  have  me  stretched  till  the  sun  shone 
through  me  !  and  that  then  I  should  cry  out,  Yes,  when  it  was 
too  late."  The  priest  was  hard-hearted  or  superstitious  enough 
to  continue  his  reproofs,  to  which  the  noble  woman  condescen- 
ded no  further  answer.  The  other  clergyman,  however,  was 
both  more  rational  and  more  humane.  He  succeeded  in  silen- 
cing his  colleague,  and  the  former  half  of  le  long  hour,  which 
the  magistrates  took  in  making  speeches  on  the  improbability 
of  the  tale  instead  of  re-examining  the  culprits  in  person,  he 
employed  in  gaining  from  the  widow  a  connected  account  of 
all  the  circumstances,  and  in  listening  occasionally  to  Maria's 
passionate  descriptions  of  all  her  friend's  goodness  and  magna- 
nimity. For  she  had  gained  an  influx  of  life  and  spirit  from 
the  assurance  in  her  mind,  both  that  she  had  now  rescued  Har- 
lin  from  death  and  was  about  to  expiate  the  guilt  of  her  purpose 
by  her  own  execution.  For  the  latter  half  of  the  time  the  cler- 
gyman remained  in  silence,  lost  in  thought,  and  momently  ex- 
pecting the  return  of  the  messenger.  All  which  during  the 
deep  silence  of  this  interval  could  be  heard,  was  one  exciama- 
mation  of  Harlin  to  her  unhappy  friend — "  Oh  !  Maria  !  Maria  ! 
couldst  thou  but  have  kept  up  thy  courage  but  for  another  mi- 
nute, we  should  have  been  now  in  heaven  !     The  messenger 

came  back  with  an   order  from  the  magistrates to  proceed 

with  the   execution  !     With  re-animated    countenance  Harlin 


312 

placed  her  neck  on  the  block  and  her  head  was  severed  from 
her  body  amid  a  general  shriek  from  the  crowd.  The  execu- 
tioner fainted  after  the  blow,  and  the  under  hangman  was  or- 
dered to  take  his  place.  He  was  not  wanted.  Maria  was  al- 
ready gone  :  her  body  was  found  as  cold  as  if  she  had  been 
dead  for  some  hours.  The  flower  had  been  snapped  in  the 
storm,  before  the  scythe  of  violence  could  come  near  it. 


ESSAY    II. 


Tlie  History  of  Times  representetb  the  magnitude  of  actions  and  the  pub- 
lic faces  or  deportment  of  persons,  and  passeth  over  in  silence  the  smaller 
passages  and  motions  of  men  and  matters.  But  such  being  the  workman- 
ship of  God,  that  he  doth  hang  the  greatest  weight  upon  the  smallest  wires, 
maxima  e  minimis  suspendens :  it  comes  tliei'efore  to  pass,  that  Histories 
do  rather  set  forth  the  pomp  of  business  than  the  true  and  inward  resorts 
thereof  But  Lives,  if  they  be  well  written,  j)ropounding  to  themselves  a 
person  to  represent  in  \  ',xom  actions  both  greater  and  smaller,  public  and 
private,  have  a  commixture,  must  of  necessity  contain  a  more  true,  native, 
and  hvely  representation. — Lord  Bacon. 


Mankind  in  general  are  so  little  in  the  habit  of  looking 
steadily  at  their  own  meaning,  or  of  weighing  the  words  by  which 
they  express  it,  that  the  writer,  who  is  careful  to  do  both,  will 
sometimes  mislead  his  readers  through  the  very  excellence 
which  qualifies  him  to  be  their  instructer  :  and  this  with  no  other 
fault  on  his  part,  than  the  modest  mistake  of  supposing  in  those, 
to  whom  he  addresses  himself,  an  intellect  as  watchful  as  his  own. 
The  inattentive  Reader  adopts  as  unconditionally  true  or  per- 
haps rails  at  his  Author  for  having  stated  as  such,  what  upon 
examination  would  be  found  to  have  been  duly  limited,  and 
would  so  have  been  understood,  if  opaque  spots  and  false  re- 
fractions were   as  rare  in  the  the  mental  as  in   the  bodily  eye. 


313 

The  motto,  for  instance,  to  this  Paper  has  more  than  once  ser- 
ved as  an  excuse  and  authority  for  huge  volumes  of  biographi- 
cal minutiaj,  which  render  the  real  character  almost  invisible, 
like  clouds  of  dust  on  a  portrait,  or  the  counterfeit  frankincense 
which  smoke-blacks  the  favorite  idol  of  a  Catholic  village.  Yet 
Lord  Bacon,  by  the  words  which  I  have  marked  in  italics,  evi- 
dently confines  the  Biographer  to  such  facts  as  are  either  sus- 
ceptible of  some  useful  general  inference,  or  tend  to  illustrate 
those  qualities  which  distinguish  the  subject  of  them  from  or- 
dinary men  ;  while  the  passage  in  general  was  meant  to  guard 
the  Historian  against  considering,  as  trifles,  all  that  might  ap- 
pear so  to  those  who  recognize  no  greatness  in  the  mindj 
and  can  conceive  no  dignity  in  any  incident,  which  does  not  act 
on  their  senses  by  its  external  accompaniments,  or  on  their 
curiosity  by  its  immediate  consequences.  Things  apparently 
insignificant  are  recommended  to  our  notice,  not  for  their  own 
sakes,  but  for  their  bearings  or  influences  on  things  of  impor- 
tance :  in  other  words,  when  they  are  insignificant  in  appear- 
ance only. 

An  inquisitiveness  into  the  minutest  circumstances  and  cas- 
ual sayings  of  eminent  contemporaries,  is  indeed  quite  natural; 
but  so  are  all  our  follies  and  the  more  natural  they  are,  the 
more  caution  should  we  exert  in  guarding  against  them.  To 
scribble  trifles  even  on  th.i  perishable  glass  of  an  inn  window, 
is  the  mark  of  an  idler ;  but  to  engrave  them  on  the  marble 
monument,  sacred  to  the  memory  of  the  departed  Great,  is 
something  worse  than  idleness.  The  spirit  of  genuine  Biog- 
raphy is  in  nothing  more  conspicuous,  than  in  the  firmnees  with 
which  it  withstands  the  cravings  of  worthless  curiosity,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  thirst  after  useful  knowledge.  For,  in  the 
first  place,  such  anecdotes  as  derive  their  whole  and  sole  inter- 
est from  the  great  name  of  the  person  concerning  whom  they 
are  related,  and  neither  illustrate  his  general  character  nor  his 
particular  actions,  would  scarcely  have  been  noticed  or  remem- 
bered except  by  men  of  weak  minds  ;  it  is  not  unlikely  there- 
fore, that  they  were  misapprehended  at  the  time,  and  it  is  most 
probable  that  they  have  been  related  as  incorrectly,  as  they 
were  noticed  injudiciously.  Nor  are  the  consequences  of  such 
garrulous  Biography  merely  negative.  For  as  insignificant  sto- 
ries can  derive  no  real  respectability  from  the  eminence  of  the 
uerson  who  happens  to  be  the  subject  of  them,  but  rather  an 
40 


314 

additional  deformity  of  disproportion,  they  are  apt  to  have  their 
insipidity  seasoned  by  the  same  bad  passions  that  accompany 
the  habit  of  gossiping  in  general ;  and  the  misapprehension  of 
weak  men  meeting  with  the  misinterpretations  of  malignant 
men,  have  not  seldom  formed  the  ground  of  the  most  grievous 
calumnies.  In  the  second  place,  these  trifles  are  subversive  of 
the  great  end  of  Biography,  which  is  to  fix  the  attention,  and  to 
interest  the  feelings,  of  men  on  those  qualities  and  actions  which 
have  made  a  particular  life  worthy  of  being  recorded.  It  is, 
no  doubt,  the  duty  of  an  honest  Biographer,  to  portray  the  pro- 
minent imperfections  as  well  as  excellencies  of  his  Hero  ;  but 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  conceive  how  this  can  be  deemed  an  excuse 
for  heaping  together  a  multitude  of  particulars,  which  can  prove 
nothing  of  any  man  that  might  not  have  been  safely  taken  for 
granted  of  all  men.  In  the  present  age  (emphatically  the  age 
of  personality  ! )  there  are  more  than  ordinary  motives  for  with- 
holding all  encouragement  from  this  mania  of  busying  ourselves 
with  the  names  of  others,  which  is  still  more  alarming  as  a 
symptom,  than  it  is  troublesome  as  a  disease.  The  Reader  must 
be  still  less  acquainted  with  contemporary  literature  than  myself 
— a  case  not  likely  to  occur — if  he  needs  me  to  inform  him,  that 
there  are  men,  who  trading  in  the  silliest  anecdotes,  in  unpro- 
voked abuse  and  senseless  eulogy,  think  themselves  neverthe- 
less employed  both  worthily  and  honorably,  if  only  all  this  be 
done  "  in  good  set  terms,^^  and  Irom  the  press,  and  of  public 
characters  :  a  class  which  has  increased  so  rapidly  of  late,  that 
it  becomes  difficult  to  discover  what  characters  are  to  be  consi- 
dered as  private.  Alas  !  if  these  wretched  misusers  of  lan- 
guage, and  the  means  of  giving  wings  to  thought,  the  means  of 
multiplying  the  presence  of  an  individual  mind,  had  ever  known, 
how  great  a  thing  the  possession  of  any  one  simple  truth  is,  and 
how  mean  a  thing  a  mere  fact  is,  except  as  seen  in  the  light  of 
some  comprehensive  truth  ;  if  they  had  but  once  experienced 
the  unborrowed  complacency,  the  inward  independence,  the 
home-bred  strength,  with  which  every  clear  conception  of  the 
reason  is  accompanied  ;  they  would  shrink  from  their  own  pa- 
ges as  at  the  remembrance  of  a  crime.  For  a  crime  it  is,  (and 
the  man  who  hesitates  in  pronouncing  it  such,  must  be  ignorant 
of  what  mankind  owe  to  books,  what  he  himself  owes  to  them 
in  spite  of  his  ignorance )  thus  to  introduce  the  spirit  of  vulgar 
scandal  and  personal  inquietude  into  the  Closet  and  the  Library, 


315 

environing  with  evil  passions  the  very  Sanctuaries,  to  which  we 
should  flee  for  refuge  from  them  !  For  to  what  do  these  Publi- 
cations appeal,  whether  they  present  themselves  as  Biography 
or  as  anonymous  Criticism,  but  to  the  same  feelings  which  the 
scandal-bearers  and  time-killers  of  ordinary  life  seek  to  gratify 
in  themselves  and  their  listeners  ?  And  both  the  authors  and 
admirers  of  such  publications,  in  what  respect  are  they  less  tru- 
ants and  deserters  from  their  own  hearts,  and  from  their  ap- 
pointed task  of  understanding  and  amending  them,  than  the 
most  garrulous  female  Chronicler,  of  the  goings-on  of  yesterday 
in  the  families  of  her  neighbors  and  townsfolk  ? 

The  Friend  has  reprinted  the  following  Biographical  sketch, 
partly  indeed  in  the  hope  that  it  may  be  the  means  of  introdu- 
cing to  the  Reader's  knowledge,  in  case  he  should  not  have 
formed  an  acquaintance  with  them  already,  two  of  the  most  in- 
teresting biographical  Works  in  our  language,  both  for  the 
weight  of  the  matter,  and  the  mcuriosa  felicitas  of  the  style. 
I  refer  to  Roger  North's  Examen,  and  the  Life  of  his  brother, 
the  Lord  Chancellor  North.  The  pages  are  all  alive  with  the 
genuine  idioms  of  our  mother-tongue.    4- 

A  fastidious  taste,  it  is  true,  will  find  offence  in  the  occasion- 
al vulgarisms,  or  what  we  now  call  slang,  which  not  a  few  of 
our  writers,  shortly  after  the  Restoration  of  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond, seem  to  have  affected  as  a  mark  of  loyalty.  These  in- 
stances, however,  are  but  a  trifling  drawback.  They  are  not 
sought  for,  as  is  too  often  and  too  plainly  done  by  L'Estrange, 
Collyer,  Tom  Brown,  and  their  imitations.  North  never  goes 
out  of  his  way  either  to  seek  them  or  to  avoid  them  ;  and  in 
the  main  his  language  gives  us  the  very  nerve,  pulse,  and  sinew 
of  a  hearty  healthy  conversational  English. 

This  is  The  Friend's  first  reason  for  the  insertion  of  this 
Extract.  His  other  and  principal  motive  may  be  found  in  the 
kindly  good-tempered  spirit  of  the  passage.  But  instead  of 
troubling  the  Reader  with  the  painful  contrast  which  so  many 
recollections  force  on  my  own  feelings,  I  will  refer  the  charac- 
ter-makers of  the  present  day  to  the  Letters  of  Erasmus  and 
Sir  Thomas  More  to  Martin  Dorpius,  that  are  commonly  annex- 
ed to  the  Encomium  Moriae  ;  and  then  for  a  practical  comment  on 
the  just  and  affecting  sentiments  of  these  two  great  men,  to  the 
works  of  Roger  North,  as  proofs  how  alone  an  English  scholar 
and  gentleman  will  permit  himself  to  delineate  his  contempora- 


316 

rtes  even  under  the  strongest  prejudices  of  party  spirit,  and 
though  employed  on  the  coarsest  subjects.  A  coarser  subject 
than  L.  C.  J.  Saunders  cannot  well  be  imagined  ;  nor  does 
North  use  his  colors  with  a  sparing  or  very  delicate  hand. 
And  yet  the  final  impression  is  that  of  kindness. 

EXTRACT  FROM  NORTH's  EXAMEN. 

The  Lord  Chief  Justice  Saunders  succeeded  in  the  room  of 
Pemberton.  His  character,  and  his  beginning  were  equally 
strange.  He  was  at  first  no  better  than  a  poor  boy,  if  not  a 
parish-foundling,  without  knowing  parents  or  relations.  He 
had  found  a  way  to  live  by  obsequiousness  in  Clement's  Inn, 
as  I  remember,  and  courting  the  attorney's  clerks  for  scraps. 
The  extraordinary  observance  and  diligence  of  the  boy,  made 
the  society  willing  to  do  him  good.  He  appeared  very  ambi- 
tious to  learn  to  write,  and  one  of  the  attorneys  got  a  board 
knocked  up  at  a  window  on  the  top  of  a  stair-case;  and  that 
was  his  desk,  where  he  sat  and  wrote  after  copies  of  court,  and 
other  hands  the  clerks  gave  him.  He  made  himself  so  expert 
a  writer  that  he  took  rn  business,  and  earned  some  pence  by 
hackney-writing.  And  thus  by  degrees  he  pushed  his  faculties 
and  fell  to  forms,  and  by  books  that  were  lent  him,  became  an 
exquisite  entertaining  clerk  ;  and  by  the  same  course  of  improve- 
ment of  himself,  an  able  counsel,  first  in  special  pleading,  then  at 
large  :  after  he  was  called  to  the  Bar,  had  practice  in  the  King's 
Bench  Court  equal  with  any  there.  As  to  his  person  he  was  very 
corpulent  and  beastly,  a  mere  lump  of  morbid  tlesh.  He  used 
to  say,  by  his  troggs,  (such  an  humorous  way  of  talking  he  af- 
fected) none  could  say  he  wanted  issue  of  his  body,  for  he  had 
nine  in  his  back.  He  was  a  fetid  mass,  that  oftended  his  neigh- 
bors at  the  bar  in  the  sharpest  degree.  Those  whose  ill  for- 
tune it  was  to  stand  near  him,  were  confessors,  and  in  the  sum- 
mer time,  almost  martyrs.  This  hateful  decay  of  his  carcase 
came  upon  him  by  continual  sottishness  ;  for  to  say  nothing  of 
brandy,  he  was  seldom  without  a  pot  of  ale  at  his  nose,  or  near 
him.  That  exercise  was  all  that  he  used ;  the  rest  of  his  life 
was  sitting  at  his  desk  or  piping  at  home  ;  and  that  home  was 
a  tailor's  house,  in  Butcher  Row,  called  his  lodging,  and  the 
man's  wife  was  his  nurse  or  worse  ;  but  by  virtue  of  his  money, 
of  which  he  had  made  little  account,  though  he  got  a  great  deal 
he  soon  became  master  of  the  family ;  and  being  no  changling 


317 

he   never  removed,   but  was   true   to    his  friends,    and  they 
to  him   to  the  last  hour  of  his   life.     So  much  for  his  person 
and  education.     As  for  his  parts  none  had   them   more  lively 
than  he  ;  wit  and  repartee  in  an  affected  rusticity  were  natural 
to  him.     He  was  ever   ready    and  never  at  a   loss  ;  and   none 
came  so  near  as  he  to  be   a  match  for  sergeant  Mainerd.     His 
great  dexterity  was  in  the  art  of  special  pleading,  and  he  would 
lay  snares  that  often  caught  his  superiors  who  were   not  aware 
of  his  traps.     And  he   was  so  fond   of  success   for  his  clients, 
that  rather  than  fail,  he  would  set  the  court  with  a  trick  ;  for 
which  he  met,  sometimes,  with  a  reprimand   which  he  would 
ward  off,  so  that  no   one  was  much  offended  with   him.     But 
Hales  could  not  bear  his  irregularity  of  life ;  and  for  that,  and 
suspicion  of  his  tricks,  used  to  bear  hard  upon  him  in  the  court. 
But  no  ill-usage    from  the  bench  was  too   hard  for  his  hold  of 
business,  being  such  as  scarce  any  could  do  but  himself.     With 
all  this  he  had  a  goodness  of  nature  and  disposition  in  so  great 
a  degree,  that  he  maybe  deservedly  styled  a  Philanthrope.    He 
was  a  very  Silenus  to  the  boys,  as  in  this  place  I  may  term  the 
students  of  the  law,  to  make  them  merry  whenever  they  had  a 
mind  to  it.     He  had  nothing  of  rigid  or  austere  in  him.     If  any 
near  him  at  the  bar  grumbled  at  his  stench,  he  ever  converted 
the  complaint  into  content  and  laughing  with  the  abundance  of 
his  wit.     As  to  his  ordinary   dealing,  he  was  as  honest  as  the 
driven  snow   was   white  ;    and  why  not,  having    no  regard  for 
money,  or  desire  to  be  rich  ?     And  for  good  nature  and  conde- 
scension there  was  not  his  fellow.     I  have  seen  him  for  hours 
and  half-hours  together,  before  the  court  sat,  stand  at   the  bar, 
with  an  audience  of  Students  over  against  him,  putting  of  ca- 
ses, and  debating  so  as  suited  their  capacities,  and  encouraged 
their  industry.     And  so  in  the  Temple,  he  seldom  moved  with- 
out a  parcel  of  youths   hanging   about  him,  and   he   merry  and 
jesting  with  them. 

It  will  be  readily  conceived  that  this  man  was  never  cut  out 
to  be  a  Presbyter,  or  any  thing  that  is  severe  and  crabbed.  In 
no  time  did  he  lean  to  faction,  but  did  his  business  without  of- 
fence to  any.  He  put  off  officious  talk  of  government  or  poli- 
tics with  jests,  and  so  made  his  wit  a  catholicon  or  shield  to  co- 
ver all  his  weak  places  or  infirmities.  When  the  court  fell  into 
a  steady  course  of  using  the  law  against  all  kinds  of  offenders, 
this  man  was  taken  into  the  king's  business ;  and  had  the  part 


318 

of  drawing,  and  perusal  of  almost  all  indictments  and  informa- 
tions that  were  then  to  be  prosecuted,  with  the  pleadings  there- 
on, if  any  were  special  ;  and  he  had  the  settling  of  the  large 
pleadings  in  the  quo  Warranto  against  London.  His  Lordship 
had  no  sort  of  conversation  with  him  but  in  the  way  of  business 
and  at  the  bar ;  but  once,  after  he  was  in  the  king's  business, 
he  dined  with  his  Lordship,  and  no  more.  And  there  he  shew- 
ed another  qualification  he  had  acquired,  and  that  was  to  play 
jigs  upon  an  harpsichord  ;  having  taught  himself  with  the  op- 
portunity of  an  old  virginal  of  his  landlady's  ;  but  in  such  a 
manner,  not  for  defect,  but  figure,  as  to  see  him  were  a  jest. 
The  king  observing  him  to  be  of  a  free  disposition,  loyal,  friend- 
ly, and  without  greediness  or  guile,  thought  of  him  to  the  Chief 
Justice  to  the  King's  Bench  at  that  nice  time.  And  the  minis- 
try could  not  but  approve  of  it.  So  great  a  weight  was  then  at 
stake,  as  could  not  be  trusted  to  men  of  doubtful  principles,  or 
such  as  any  thing  might  tempt  to  desert  them.  While  he  sat 
in  the  Court  of  King's  Bench,  he  gave  the  rule  to  the  general 
satisfaction  of  the  lawyers.  But  his  course  of  life  was  so  dif- 
ferent from  what  it  had  been,  his  business  incessant  and  withal 
crabbed  ;  and  his  diet  and  exercise  changed,  that  the  constitu- 
tion of  his  body,  or  head  rather,  could  not  sustain  it,  and  he 
fell  into  an  apoplexy  and  palsy,  which  numbed  his  parts  ;  and  he 
never  recovered  the  strength  of  them.  He  outlived  the  judg- 
ment in  the  quo  Warranto  ;  but  was  not  present  otherwise  than 
by  sending  his  opinion  by  one  of  the  judges,  to  be  for  the  king, 
who  at  the  pronouncing  of  the  judgment,  declared  it  to  the 
court  accordingly,  which  is  frequently  done  in  like  cases. 


ESSAY    III. 


Provide  si  videbiiur,  Jingant  isti  me  Icdruncvlis  interim  animi  causa  liisisse,  aut 
si  malint,  equitdsse  in  arundine  longa.  JVam  qiue,  tandem  est  hiiquitas,  cum, 
omni  vitce  instituto  suos  lusus  concedamus,  studiis  nullum  omnino  lusumpeiinit- 
tere :  maxima  si  ita  tractentur  ludicra,  ut  ex  his  aliquando  plus  frugis  referat 
lector  non  omnino  nans  obesa  quam  ex  quorundum  tetricis  ac  splendidis  argu- 
mentis.  Erasmi  Praf.  ad  Mor.  Enc. 

Translation. — They  may  pretend,  if  they  like,  that  I  amuse  myself  with 
playing  Fox  and  Goose,  or,  if  they  prefer  it,  equitasse  in  arundine  longa, 
that  I  ride  the  cock-horse  on  my  grandam's  crutch.  But  wherein,  I  pray, 
consists  the  unfairness  or  improprict}',  when  every  trade  and  profession  is 
allowed  its  own  sport  and  travesty,  in  extending  the  same  permission  to 
literature :  esi)ecially  if  trifles  are  so  handled,  that  a  reader  of  tolerable 
quickness  may  occasionally  derive  more  food  for  profitable  reflection  than 
from  many  a  work  of  grand  or  gloomy  argument.^ 


Irus,  the  forlorn  Irus,  whose  nourishment  consisted  in  bread 
and  water,  whose  clothing  of  one  tattered  mantle,  and  whose 
bed  of  an  arm-full  of  straw,  this  same  Irus,  by  a  rapid  transition 
of  fortune,  became  the  most  prosperous  mortal  under  the  sun. 
It  pleased  the  Gods  to  snatch  him  at  once  out  of  the  dust,  and 
to  place  him  by  the  side  of  princes.  He  beheld  himself  in  the 
possession  of  incalculable  treasures.  His  palace  excelled  even 
the  temple  of  the  gods  in  the  pomp  of  its  ornaments  ;  his  least 
sumptuous  clothing  was  of  purple  and  gold,  and  his  table  might 
well  have  been  named  the  compendium  of  luxury,  the  summary 
of  all  that  the  voluptuous  ingenuity  of  men  had  invented  for  the 
gratification  of  the  palate.  A  numerous  train  of  admiring  de- 
pendents followed  him  at  every  step  ;  those  to  whom  he  vouch- 
safed a  gracious  look,  were  esteemed  already  in  the  high  road 
of  fortune,  and  the  favored  individual  who  was  permitted  to 
kiss  his  hand,  appeared  to  be  the  object  of  common  envy.    The 


320 

name  of  Irus  sounding  in  his  ears  an  unwelcome  memento  and 
perpetual  reproach  of  his  former  poverty,  he  for  this  reason  na- 
med himself  Ceraunius,  or  the  Lightning-flasher,  and  the  whole 
people  celebrated  this  splendid  change  of  title  by  public  rejoic- 
ings. The  poet,  who  a  few  years  ago  had  personified  poverty  it- 
self under  his  former  name  of  Irus,  now  made  a  discovery  which 
had  till  that  moment  remained  a  profound  secret,  but  was  now  re- 
ceived by  all  with  implicit  faith  and  warmest  approbation.  Ju- 
piter, forsooth,  had  become  enamored  of  the  mother  of  Ceraun- 
ius, and  assumed  the  form  of  a  mortal  in  order  to  enjoy  her  love. 
Henceforward  they  erected  altars  .to  him,  they  swore  by  his 
name,  and  the  priests  discovered  in  the  entrails  of  the  sacrifi- 
cial victim,  that  the  great  Ceraunius,  this  worthy  son  of 
Jupiter,  was  the  sole  pillar  of  the  western  world.  Toxaris,  his 
former  neighbor,  a  man  whom  good  fortune,  unwearied  industry, 
and  rational  frugality,  had  placed  among  tlie  richest  citizens, 
became  the  first  victim  of  the  pride  of  this  new  demi-god.  In 
the  time  of  his  poverty  Irus  had  repined  at  his  luck  and  pros- 
perity, and  irritable  from  distress  and  envy,  had  conceived  that 
Toxaris  had  looked  contemptuously  on  him  ;  and  now  was  the 
time  that  Ceraunius  would  make  him  feel  the  power  of  him 
whose  father  grasped  the  thunder-bolt.  Three  advocates,  newly 
admitted  into  the  recently  established  order  of  the  Cygnet  gave 
evidence  that  Toxaris  had  denied  the  gods,  committed  pecula- 
tions on  the  sacred  Treasury,  and  increased  his  treasure  by  acts 
of  sacrilege.  He  was  hurried  off  to  prison  and  sentenced  to 
an  ignominious  death,  and  his  wealth  confiscated  to  the  use  of 
Ceraunius,  the  earthly  representative  of  the  deities.  Ceraunius 
now  found  nothing  wanting  to  his  felicity  but  a  bride  worthy  of 
his  rank  and  blooming  honors.  The  most  illustrious  of  the  land 
were  candidates  for  his  alliance.  Euphorbia,  the  daughter  of 
the  noble  Austrius,  v/as  honored  with  his  final  choice.  To  no- 
bility of  birth  nature  had  added  for  Euphorbia  a  rich  dowry  of 
beauty,  a  nobleness  both  of  look  and  stature.  The  flowing 
ringlets  of  her  hair,  lier  lofty  forehead,  her  brilliant  eyes,  her 
stately  figure,  her  majestic  gait,  had  enchanted  the  haughty 
Ceraunius  :  and  all  the  bards  told  wliat  the  inspiring  muses  had 
revealed  to  them,  that  Venus  more  than  once  had  pined  with 
jealousy  at  the  sight  of  her  superior  charms.  The  day  of  es- 
pousal arrived,  and  the  illustrious  son  of  Jove  was  proceeding 
in  pomp  to  the  temple,  when  the  anguish-stricken  wife  of  Toxa- 


321 

aris,  with  his  innocent  children,  suddenly  threw  themselvee  at 
his  feet,  and  with  loud  lamentations  entreated  him  to  spare  the 
life  of  her  husband.  Enraged  by  this  interruption,  Ceraunius 
spurned  her  from  him  with  his  feet  and — Irus  awakened,  and 
found  himself  lying  on  the  same  straw  on  which  he  had  lain 
down,  and  with  his  old  tattered  mantle  spread  over  him.  With 
his  returning  reason,  conscience  too  returned.  He  praised  the 
gods  and  resigned  himself  to  his  lot.  Ceraunius  indeed  had 
vanished,  but  the  innocent  Toxaris  was  still  alive,  and  Irus  poor 
yet  guiltless. 

Can  my  reader  recollect  no  character  now  on  earth,  who 
sometime  or  other  will  awake  from  his  dream  of  empire,  poor 
as  Irus,  with  all  the  guilt  and  impiety  of  Ceraunius  .'' 

P.  S.  The  reader  will  bear  in  mind,  that  this  fable  was  writ- 
ten and  first  published  at  the  close  of  1809. 
Qe;(&ev   8s  re  vrj'nLog  tyvb). 


CHRISTMAS  WITHIN  DOORS,  IN  THE  NORTH  OF  GERMANY. 

EXTRACTED    FROM    SATYRANe's    LETTERS. 

Ratzehurg. 
There  is  a  Christmas  custom  here  which  pleased  and  interested 
me. — The  children  make  little  presents  to  their  parents,  and  to 
each  other  ;  and  the  parents  to  their  children.  For  three  or  four 
months  before  Christmas  the  girls  are  all  busy,  and  the  boys 
save  up  their  pocket-money,  to  make  or  purchase  these  pre- 
sents. What  the  present  is  to  be  is  cautiously  kept  secret,  and 
the  girls  have  a  world  of  contrivances  to  conceal  it — such  as 
working  when  they  are  out  on  visits  and  the  others  are  not  with 
them ;  getting  up  in  the  morning  before  day-light,  &c.  Then 
on  the  evening  before  Christmas  day  one  of  the  parlors  is  light- 
ed up  by  the  children,  into  which  the  parents  must  not  go.  A 
great  yew  bough  is  fastened  on  the  table  at  a  little  distance  from 
the  wall,  a  multitude  of  little  tapers  are  fastened  in  the  bough, 
but  so  as  not  to  catch  it  till  they  are  nearly  burnt  out,  and  co- 
loured paper,  &c.  hangs  and  ilutters  from  the  twigs. — Under 
this  bough  the  children  lay  out  in  great  order  the  presents  they 
mean  for  their  parents,  still  concealing  in  their  pockets  what 
they  intend  for  each  other.  Then  the  parents  are  introduced-T- 
and  each  presents  his  little  gift — and  then  bring  out  the  rest  one 
41 


322 

by  one  from  their  pockets,  and  present  them  with  kisses  and 
embraces. — Where  I  witnessed  this  scene,  there  were  eight  or 
nine  children,  and  the  eldest  daughter  and  the  mother  wept 
aloud  for  joy  and  tenderness ;  and  the  tears  ran  down  the  face 
of  the  father,  and  he  clasped  all  his  children  so  tight  to  his 
breast — it  seemed  as  if  he  did  it  to  stifle  the  sob  that  was  rising 
within  him. — I  was  very  much  affected. — The  shadow  of  the 
bough  and  its  appendages  on  the  wall,  and  arching  over  on  the 
ceiling,  made  a  pretty  picture — and  then  the  raptures  of  the 
very  little  ones,  when  at  last  the  twigs  and  their  needles  began 
to  take  fire  and  snap — 0  it  was  a  delight  for  them  ! — On  the 
next  day,  in  the  great  parlor,  the  parents  lay  out  on  the  table  the 
presents  for  the  children ;  a  scene  of  more  sober  joy  succeeds, 
as  on  this  day,  after  an  old  custom,  the  mother  says  privately 
to  each  of  her  daughters,  and  the  father  to  his  sons,  that  which 
he  has  observed  most  praise-worthy  and  that  which  was  most 
faulty  in  their  conduct. — Formerly,  and  still  in  the  smaller 
towns  and  villages  throughout  North  Germany,  these  presents 
were  sent  by  all  the  parents  to  some  one  fellow  who  in  high 
buskins,  a  white  robe,  a  mask,  and  an  enormous  flax  wig,  per- 
sonates Knecht  Rupert,  i.  e.  the  servant  Rupert.  On  Christ- 
mas night  he  goes  round  to  every  house  and  says,  that  Jesus 
Christ  his  master  sent  him  thither — the  parents  and  elder  chil- 
dren receive  him  with  great  pomp  of  reverence,  while  the  little 
ones  are  most  terribly  frightened — He  then  enquires  for  the 
children,  and  according  to  the  character  which  he  hears  from 
the  parent,  he  gives  them  the  intended  present  as  if  they  came 
out  of  heaven  from  Jesus  Christ. — Or,  if  they  should  have  been 
bad  children,  he  gives  the  parents  a  rod,  and  in  the  name  of 
his  master  recommends  them  to  use  it  frequently. — About  seven 
or  eight  years  old  the  children  are  let  into  the  secret,  and  it  is 
curious  how  faithfully  they  keep  it ! 


CHRISTMAS  OUT  OF  DOORS. 
The  whole  Lake  of  Ratzeburg  is  one  mass  of  thick  transpa- 
rent ice — a  spotless  mirror  of  nine  miles  in  extent !  The  low- 
ness  of  the  hills,  which  rise  from  the  shore  of  the  lake,  pre- 
clude the  awful  sublimity  of  Alpine  scenery,  yet  compensate 
for  the  want  of  it  by  beauties,  of  which  this  very  lowness  is  a 


323 

necessary  condition.  Yester-morning  I  saw  the  lesser  lake  com- 
pletely hid  by  mist ;  but  the  moment  the  sun  peeped  over  tho 
hill,  the  mist  broke  in  the  middle,  and  in  a  few  seconds  stood 
divided,  leaving  a  broad  road  all  across  the  lake  ;  and  between 
these  two  walls  of  mist  the  sunlight  buriit  upon  the  ice,  forming 
a  road  of  golden  fire,  intolerably  bright !  and  the  mist-walls 
themselves  partook  of  the  blaze  in  a  multitude  of  shining  co- 
lours. This  is  our  second  frost.  About  a  month  ago,  before 
the  thaw  came  on,  there  was  a  storm  of  wind  ;  during  the  whole 
night,  such  were  the  thunders  and  bowlings  of  the  breaking  ice, 
that  they  have  left  a  conviction  on  my  mind,  that  there  are 
sounds  more  sublime  than  any  sight  can  be,  more  absolutely  sus- 
pending the  power  of  comparison,  and  more  utterly  absorbing 
the  mind's  self-consciousness  in  its  total  attention  to  the  object 
working  upon  it.  Part  of  the  ice  which  the  vehemence  of  the 
wind  had  shattered,  was  driven  shore-ward  and  froze  anew. 
On  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  at  sun-set,  the  shattered  ice 
thus  frozen,  appeared  of  a  deep  blue  and  in  shape  like  an  agi- 
tated sea ;  beyond  this,  the  water,  that  ran  up  between  the 
great  islands  of  ice  which  had  preserved  their  masses  entire 
and  smooth,  shone  of  a  j-ellow  green :  but  all  these  scattered 
ice-islands,  themselves,  were  of  an  intensely  bright  blood  co- 
lour— they  seemed  blood  and  light  in  union  !  On  some  of  the 
largest  of  these  islands,  the  fishermen  stood  pulling  out  their 
immense  nets  through  the  holes  made  in  the  ice  for  this  pur- 
pose, and  the  men,  their  net-poles,  and  their  huge  nets,  were  a 
part  of  the  glory  ;  say  rather,  it  appeared  as  if  the  rich  crimson 
light  had  shaped  itself  into  these  forms,  figures,  and  attitudes,  to 
make  a  glorious  vision  in  mockery  of  earthly  things. 

The  lower  lake  is  now  all  alive  with  scaters,  and  with  ladies 
driven  onward  by  them  in  their  ice  cars.  Mercury,  surely,  was 
the  first  maker  of  scates,  and  the  wings  at  his  feet  are  symbols 
of  the  invention.  In  seating  there  arc  three  pleasing  circumstan- 
ces :  the  infinitely  subtle  particles  of  ice  which  the  scate  cuts  up, 
and  which  creep  and  run  before  the  scate  like  a  low  mist,  and 
in  sun-rise  or  sun-set  become  coloured  ;  second,  the  shadow  of 
the  scater  in  the  water,  seen  through  the  transparent  ice  ;  and 
third,  the  melancholy  undulating  sound  from  the  scate,  not  with- 
out variety;  and  when  very  many  are  seating  together,  the 
sounds  and  the  noises  give  an  impulse  to  the  icy  trees,  and  the 
woods  all  round  the  lake  tinkle. 


324 

Here  I  stop,  having  in  truth  transcribed  the  preceding  in 
great  measure,  in  order  to  present  the  lovers  of  poetry  with  a 
descriptive  passage,  extracted,  with  the  author's  permission, 
from  an  unpublished  Poem  on  the  Growth  and  Revolutions  of 
an  Individual  IMind,  by  Wordsworth. 

an  Orphic  tale  indeed, 


A  tale  divine  of  high  and  passionate  thoughts 

To  their  own  music  chaunted  !  S.  T.  C. 


GROWTH    OF    GENIUS    FROM    THE    INFLUENCES    OF   NATURAL    OB- 
JECTS, ON  THE   IMAGINATION  IN  BOYHOOD,  AND  EARLY   YOUTH. 

Wisdom!  and  Spirit  of  the  Universe! 
Thou  Soul,  that  art  the  Eternity  of  Thought ! 
And  giv'st  to  forms  and  images  a  breath 
And  everlasting  motion  !  not  in  vain, 
By  day  or  star-liglit,  thus  from  my  first  dawn 
Of  Childhood  didst  Thou  intertwine  for  me 
The  passions  that  build  u})  our  human  Soul, 
Nor  with  the  mean  and  vulgar  works  of  man 
But  with  high  objects,  with  enduring  things, 
With  Life  and  Nature :  purifying  thus 
The  elements  of  feehng  and  of  thought, 
And  sanctifying  by  such  discipline 
Both  pain  and  fear,  until  we  recognize 
A  grandeur  in  the  beatings  of  the  heart. 

Nor  was  this  fellowship  vouchsaf 'd  to  me  ^ 
With  stinted  kindness.     In  November  days 
When  vapors  rolling  down  the  valliea  made 
A  lonely  scene  more  lonesome  ;  among  woods 
At  noon,  and  mid  the  calm  of  summer  nights, 
When  by  the  margin  of  the  trembling  lake, 
Beneath  the  gloomy  hills  I  homeward  went 
In  solitude,  such  intercourse  was  mine ; 
'Twas  mine  among  the  fields  both  day  and  night 
And  by  the  waters  all  the  summer  long. 

And  in  the  frosty  season  when  the  sun 
Was  set,  and,  visible  for  many  a  mile 
The  cottage  windows  through  the  twihght  blazed, 
I  heeded  not  the  summons : — happy  time 
It  was  indeed  for  all  of  us,  to  me 
It  was  a  time  of  rajiture  !  clear  and  loud 
The  village  clock  toll'd  six!  I  whcel'd  about, 
Proud  and  exulting,  like  an  untir'd  horse 
Thai  car'd  not  for  its  home. — All  sliod  with  stoel 
W«  hiss'd  along  the  poMi'd  ice,  iu  games 


325 

Confederate,  imitarive  of  the  ohace 
Ami  woodland  pleasures,  the  resounding  honi, 
The  pack  loud  bellowhig,  and  the  lunited  hare. 
So  through  tlie  darkness  and  tlie  cold  we  flew^ 
And  not  a  voice  was  idle :  with  the  din 
Meanwhile  the  precipices  rang  aloud. 
The  leafless  trees  and  every  icy  crag 
Tinkled  like  iron,  while  the  distant  hills 
Into  the  tumult  sent  an  alien  sound 
Of  melancholy — not  ujnioticed,  while  the  stars 
Eastward,  were  sparkling  clear,  and  in  the  west 
The  orange  sky  of  evening  died  away. 

Not  seldom  from  the  uproar  I  retired 
Into  a  silent  bay  or  sportively 
Glanc'd  sideway,  leaving  the  tumultuous  throng 
To  cut  across  the  image  of  a  star 
That  gleam'd  upon  the  ice  :  and  oftentimes 
When  we  had  given  our  bodies  to  the  wind, 
And  all  the  shadowy  banks  on  either  side 
Came  sweeping  through  the  darkness  spinning  still 
The  rapid  line  of  motion,  then  at  once 
Have  I  reclining  back  upon  my  heels 
Stopp'd  short :  yet  still  the  solitaiy  cliffs 
Wheel'd  by  me  even  as  if  the  eaith  had  roU'd 
With  visible  motion  her  diurnal  round ! 
Behind  me  did  they  stretch  in  solemn  train 
Feebler  and  feebler,  and  I  stood  and  watch'd 
Till  all  was  tranquil  as  a  summer  sea. 


ESSAY     IV. 


Es  ist  fast  traurig  zu  sehen,  loie  man  von  tier  Hehraischen  Quellen  so  ganz  sich 
abgeivendet  hat,  hi  JEgijptcns  selbst  dunkdn  unentnithselbaren  Hierogli/jyhen 
hoi  man  den  Schlilssel  alter  Weislieit  suchen  ivollen ;  jetzt  ist  von  nichts  als  In- 
diens  Sprache  und  Weisheit  die  Rede ;  aher  die  Rabbinische  Schriften  liegen 
unerforscht. Sc  helling. 

Translation. — It  is  mournful  to  observe,  how  entirely  we  have  turned  our 
backs  on  the  Hebrew  sources.  In  the  obscure  insolvable  riddles  of  the  Egyp- 
tian Hieroglyphics  the  Learned  have  been  hoping  to  find  the  key  of  an- 
cient doctrine,  and  now  we  hear  of  nothing  but  the  language  and  Misdom 
of  India,  while  tlie  writings  and  traditions  of  the  Rabbins  ai-e  consigned 
to   neglect  widiout  examination. 


The  lord  helpeth  man  and  beast. 
During  his  march  to  conquer  the  world,  Alexander  the  Ma- 
cedonian, came  to  a  people  in  Africa,  who  dwelt  in  a  remote  and 
secluded  corner  in  peaceful  huts,  and  knew  neither  war  nor 
conqueror.  They  led  him  to  the  hut  of  their  Chief,  who  re- 
ceived him  hospitably  and  placed  before  him  golden  dates,  gol- 
den figs,  and  bread  of  gold.  Do  you  eat  gold  in  this  country  .'' 
said  Alexander.  I  take  it  for  granted  (replied  the  Chief)  that 
thou  wert  able  to  find  eatable  food  in  thine  own  country.  For 
what  reason  then  art  thou  come  among  us  ?  Your  gold  has  not 
tempted  me  hither,  said  Alexander,  but  I  would  willingly  be- 
come acquainted  with  your  manners  and  customs.  So  be  it, 
rejoined  the  other,  sojourn  among  us  as  long  as  it  pleaseth  thee. 
At  the  close  of  this  conversation  two  citizens  entered  as  into 
their  Court  of  Justice.  The  plaintiff  said,  I  bought  of  this  man 
a  piece  of  land,  and  as  I  was  making  a  deep  drain  through  it  I 
found  a  treasure.  This  is  not  mine,  for  I  only  bargained  for 
the  land,  and  not  for  any  treasure  that  might  be  concealed  be- 


327 

neath  it :  and  yet  the  former  owner  of  the  land  will  not  re- 
ceive it.  The  defendant  answered :  I  hope  I  have  a  con- 
science as  well  as  my  fellow-citizen.  I  sold  him  the  land  with 
all  its  contingent,  as  well  as  existing  advantages,  and  conse- 
quently the  treasure  inclusively. 

The  Chief,  who  was  at  the  same  time  their  supreme  judge, 
recapitulated  their  words,  in  order  that  the  parties  might  see 
whether  or  no  he  understood  them  aright.  Then  after  some 
reflection  said  :  Thou  hast  a  Son,  Friend,  I  believe  ?  Yes  ! 
And  thou  (addressing  the  other)  a  Daughter?  Yes! — Well 
then,  let  thy  Son  marry  thy  Daughter,  and  bestow  the  trea- 
sure on  the  young  couple  for  their  marriage  portion.  Alexan- 
der seemed  surprized  and  perplexed.  Think  you  my  sentence 
unjust  ?  the  Chief  asked  him — O  no,  replied  Alexander,  but  it 
astonishes  me.  And  how,  then  rejoined  the  Chief,  would  the 
case  have  been  decided  in  your  country  ? — To  confess  the  truth, 
said  Alexander,  we  should  have  taken  both  parties  into  custo- 
dy and  have  seized  the  treasure  for  the  king's  use.  For  the 
king's  use  !  exclaimed  the  Chief,  now  in  his  turn  astonished. 
Does  the  sun  shine  on  that  country  ? — O  Yes  !  Does  it  rain 
there  ? — Assuredly.  Wonderful !  but  are  there  tame  Animals 
in  the  country  that  live  on  the  grass  and  green  herbs  ?  Very 
many,  and  of  many  kinds. — Aye,  that  must  be  the  cause,  said 
the  Chief:  for  the  sake  of  those  innocent  Animals  the  All- 
gracious  Being  continues  to  let  the  sun  shine  and  the  rain  drop 
down  on  your  country. 


WHOSO  HATH   FOUND  A  VIRTUOUS  WIFE   HATH   A  GREATER  TREA- 
SURE THAN  COSTLY   PEARLS. 

Such  a  treasure  had  the  celebrated  Teacher  Rabbi  Meir 
found.  He  sate  during  the  whole  of  one  sabbath  day  in  the 
public  school,  and  instructed  the  people.  During  his  absence 
from  his  house  his  two  sons  died,  both  of  them  of  uncommon 
beauty  and  enlightened  in  the  law.  His  wife  bore  them  to  her 
bed-chamber,  laid  them  upon  the  marriage-bed,  and  spread  a 
white  covering  over  their  bodies.  In  the  evening  Rabbi  Meir 
came  home.  Where  are  my  two  sons  he  asked,  that  I  may 
give  them  my  blessing  ?  They  are  gone  to  the  school,  was  the 
answer.     I  repeatedly  looked  round  the  school,  he  replied,  and 


328 

I  did  not  see  them  there.  She  reached  to  him  a  goblet,  he 
praised  the  Lord  at  the  going  out  of  the  Sabbath,  drank  and 
again  asked  :  where  are  my  Sons  that  they  too  may  drink  of  the 
cup  of  blessing  ?  They  will  not  be  far  ofiF,  she  said,  and  plac- 
ed food  before  him  that  he  might  eat.  He  was  in  a  glad- 
some and  genial  mood,  and  when  he  had  said  grace  after  the 
meal,  she  thus  addressed  him.  Rabbi,  with  thy  permission  I 
would  fain  propose  to  thee  one  question.  Ask  it  then  my  love  ! 
he  replied  :  A  few  days  ago,  a  person  entrusted  some  jewels  to 
my  custody,  and  now  he  demands  them  again  :  should  I  give 
them  back  again  ?  This  is  a  question,  said  Rabbi  Meir,  which 
my  wife  should  not  have  thought  it  necessary  to  ask.  What, 
wouldst  thou  hesitate  or  be  reluctant  to  restore  to  every  one 
his  own  ? — No,  she  replied  ;  but  yet  I  thought  it  best  not  to 
restore  them  without  acquainting  thee  therewith.  She  then 
led  him  to  their  chamber,  and  stepping  to  the  bed,  took  the 
white  covering  from  the  dead  bodies. — Ah,  my  Sons,  my  Sons, 
thus  loudly  lamented  the  Father,  my  Sons,  the  Light  of  mine 
Eyes  and  the  Light  of  my  Understanding,  I  was  your  Father, 
but  ye  were  my  Teachers  in  the  Law.  The  mother  turned 
away  and  wept  bitterly.  At  length  she  took  her  husband  by 
the  hand  and  said.  Rabbi  didst  thou  not  teach  me  that  we  must 
not  be  reluctant  to  restore  that  which  was  entrusted  to  our 
keeping  ?  See  the  Lord  gave,  the  Lord  has  taken  away,  and 
blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  !  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord  !  echoed  Rabbi  Meir,  and  blessed  be  his  name  for  thy 
sake  too !  for  well  is  it  written  ;  whoso  hath  found  a  virtuous 
Wife  hath  a  greater  Treasure  than  costly  Pearls  ;  She  openeth 
her  mouth  with  wisdom,  and  in  her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kind- 
ness. 


CONVERSATION    OF    A    PHII^GSOPHER    WITH    A    RABBI. 

Your  God  in  his  Book  calls  himself  a  jealous  God,  who  can 
endure  no  other  God  beside  himself,  and  on  all  occasions  makes 
manifest  his  abhonence  of  idolatry.  How  comes  it  then  that 
he  threatens  and  seems  to  hate  the  w^orshippers  of  false  Gods 
more  than  the  false  Gods  themselves.  A  certain  king,  replied 
the  Rabbi,  had  a  disobedient  Son.  Among  other  worthless 
tricks  of  various  kinds,  he  had  the  baseness  to  give  his  Dogs 


329 

his  Father's  names  and  titles.  Should  the  King  show  his  anger 
on  the  Prince  or  the  Dogs  ? — Well  turned,  rejoined  the  Philoso- 
pher :  but  if  your  God  destroyed  the  objects  of  idolatry  he  would 
take  away  the  temptation  to  it.  Yea,  retorted  the  Rabbi,  if  the 
Fools  worshipped  such  things  only  as  were  of  no  further  use  than 
that  to  which  their  Folly  applied  them,  if  the  Idol  were  always 
as  worthless  as  the  Idolatry  is  contemptible.  But  they  worship 
the  Sun,  the  Moon,  the  Host  of  Heaven,  the  Rivers,  the  Sea, 
Fire,  Air,  and  what  not  ?  Would  you  that  the  Creator,  for  the 
sake  of  these  Fools,  should  ruin  his  own  Works,  and  disturb 
the  laws  appointed  to  Nature  by  his  own  Wisdom  ?  If  a  man 
steals  grain  and  sows  it,  should  the  seed  not  shoot  up  out  of 
the  earth,  because  it  was  stolen  ?  0  no  !  the  wise  Creator  lets 
Nature  run  her  own  course  ;  for  her  course  is  his  own  appoint- 
ment. And  what  if  the  children  of  folly  abuse  it  to  evil  ?  The 
day  of  reckoning  is  not  far  off,  and  men  will  then  learn  that 
human  actions  likewise  re-appear  in  their  consequences  by  as 
certain  a  law  as  the  green  blade  rises  up  out  of  the  buried 
corn-seed. 


42 


INTRODUCTION.* 


IlaQu  JSe^TOV  rif i'  ii'voiav  7o~v  xara  (pvaiv  tifr,  xal  to'  ae/itrov  a'n- 
i.a'gb)g,  o/'ce  xoluy.ei(xg  jiisv  Tta'arjg  ngocrsvegsQccv  eiruv  irfv  'optXiav 
uvTO'v,  a  ideaiuo)'T((TOv  de  ttuq''  avjo'v  ixen'ov  toV  xu'igov  siPuf 
Ktxl  u'/iia  /iisy  d"  /lu&egaTOi'  eit'ut,  ajjia  8s  (piXogooyo  tujov  xul  to'  idsiv 
u  vd'QMrtov  aucpoj'g  tXu  /igov  jm'v  euviov  xuloifi'  ifyovfiEvov  jrfv  av- 
jov  nolv/nud-iijv.  31.  ANTJIN.   ^iS-   «. 

Translation, — Fi-oiii  Sextiis,  and  from  the  contemplation  of  his  character,  I 
learnt  what  it  was  to  live  a  life  in  harmony  with  nature  ;  and  that  seemli- 
ness  and  dignity  of  deportment,  which  ensured  the  profoundest  reverence 
at  the  very  same  time  that  his  company  was  more  winning  tlian  all  the  flat- 
teiy  in  the  world.  To  him  I  owe  likewise  that  I  have  known  a  man  at 
once  the  most  dispassionate,  and  the  most  affectionate,  and  who  of  all  his 
attractions  set  the  least  value  on  the  multiplicity  of  his  literary  acquisitions. 

M.  Anton.  Book  I. 


To  THE  Editor  of  The  Friend. 
Sir, 

I  hope  you  will  not  ascribe  to  presumption,  the  liberty  I 
take  in  addressing  you,  on  the  subject  of  your  Work.  I  feel 
deeply  interested  in  the  cause  you  have  undertaken  to  support ; 
and  my  object  in  writing  this  letter  is  to  describe  to  you,  in 

*  With  this  introduction  commences  the  third  volume  of  the  English  edi- 
tion of  The  Friend  ;  to  which  volume  the  following  lines  are  prefixed  as  a 
motto : 

Now  for  the  writing  of  this  werke, 

I,  who  am  a  lonesome  clerke, 

Purposed  for  to  write  a  book 

After  the  world,  that  whilome  took 

Its  course  in  old6  days  long  passed  : 

But  for  men  sayn,  it  is  now  lasaed 


531 

part  from  my  own  feelings,  what  I  conceive  to  be  the  state  of 
many  minds,  which  may  derive  important  advantage  from  your 
instructions. 

I  speak,  Sir,  of  those  who,  though  bred  up  under  our  unfavora- 
ble system  of  education,  have  yet  held  at  times  some  intercourse 
with  nature,  and  with  those  great  minds  whose  works  have 
been  moulded  by  the  spirit  of  nature  :  who,  therefore,  when 
they  pass  from  the  seclusion  and  constraint  of  early  study,  bring 
with  them  into  the  new  scene  of  the  world,  much  of  the  pure  sen- 
sibility which  is  the  spring  of  all  that  is  greatly  good  in  thought 
and  action.  To  such  the  season  of  that  entrance  into  the  world 
is  a  season  of  fearful  importance  ;  not  for  the  seduction  of  its 
passions,  but  of  its  opinions.  Whatever  be  their  intellectual 
powers,  unless  extraordinary  circumstances  in  their  lives,  have 
been  so  favorable  to  the  growth  of  meditative  genius,  that  their 
speculative  opinions  must  spring  out  of  their  early  feelings, 
their  minds  are  still  at  the  mercy  of  fortune  ;  they  have  no 
inward  impulse  steadily  to  propel  them  :  and  must  trust  to  the 
chances  of  the  world  for  a  guide.  And  such  is  our  present 
moral  and  intellectual  state,  that  these  chances  are  little  else 
than  variety  of  danger.  There  will  be  a  thousand  causes  con- 
spiring to  complete  the  work  of  a  false  education,  and  by  en- 
closing the  mind  on  every  side  from  the  influences  of  natural 
feeling,  to  degrade  its  inborn  dignity,  and  finally  bring  the  heart 
itself  under  subjection  to  a  corrupted  understanding.  I  am 
anxious  to  describe  to  you  what  I  have  experienced  or  seen  of 
the  dispositions  and  feelings  that  will  aid  every  other  cause  of 
danger,  and  tend  to  lay  the  mind  open  to  the  infection  of  all 
those  falsehoods  in  opinion  and  sentiment,  which  constitute  the 
degeneracy  of  the  age.  Though  it  would  not  be  difficult  to 
prove,  that  the   mind  of  the   country  is  much  enervated  since 

In  worser  plight  tlian  it  was  tlio, 
I  thought  me  for  to  touch  also 
The  world  which  neweth  every  day — 
So,  as  I  can,  so  as  I  may, 
Albeit  I  sickness  have   and  pain, 
And  long  have  had,  jet  would  I  fain 
Do  my  mind's  hest  and  besiness, 
That  in  some  part,  so  as  I  guess, 
The  gentle  mind  may  be  advised. 

GowEU,  Piv.  to  the  Confess.  Jl»mniis. 


333 

the  days  of  her  strength,  and  brought  down  from  its  moral  dig- 
nity, it  is  not  yet  so  forlorn  of  all  good, — there  is  nothing  in  the 
face  of  the  times  so  dark  and  saddening,  and  repulsive — as  to 
shock  the  first  feelings  of  a  generous  spirit,  and  drive  it  at  once 
to  seek  refuge  in  the  elder  ages  of  our  greatness.  There  yet 
survives  so  much  of  the  character  bred  up  through  long  years 
of  liberty,  danger,  and  glory,  that  even  what  this  age  produces 
bears  traces  of  those  that  are  past,  and  it  still  yields  enough  of 
beautiful,  and  splendid,  and  bold,  to  captivate  an  ardent  but 
untutored  imagination.  And  in  this  real  excellence  is  the^be- 
ginning  of  danger :  for  it  is  the  first  spring  of  that  excessive 
admiration  of  the  age  which  at  last  brings  down  to  its  own  le- 
vel a  mind  born  above  it.  If  there  existed  only  the  general 
disposition  of  all  who  are  formed  with  a  high  capacity  for  good, 
to  be  rather  credulous  of  excellence  than  suspiciously  and  sev- 
erely just,  the  error  would  not  be  carried  far: — but  there  are 
to  a  young  mind,  in  this  country  and  at  this  time,  numerous 
powerful  causes  concurring  to  inflame  this  disposition,  till  the 
excess  of  the  affection  above  the  worth  of  its  object,  is  beyond 
all  computation.  To  trace  these  causes  it  will  be  necessary  to 
follow  the  history  of  a  pure  and  noble  mind  from  the  first  mo- 
ment of  that  critical  passage  from  seclusion  to  the  world,  which 
changes  all  the  circumstances  of  its  intellectual  existence, 
shews  it  for  the  first  time  the  real  scene  of  living  men,  and 
calls  up  the  new  feeling  of  numerous  relations  by  which  it  is 
to  be  connected  with  them. 

To  the  young  adventurer  in  life,  who  enters  upon  his  course 
with  such  a  mind,  every  thing  seems  made  for  delusion.  He 
comes  with  a  spirit  whose  dearest  feelings  and  highest  thoughts 
have  sprung  up  under  the  influences  of  nature.  He  transfers 
to  the  realities  of  life  the  high  wild  fancies  of  visionary  boyhood  : 
he  brings  with  him  into  the  world  the  passions  of  solitary  and 
untamed  imagination,  and  hopes  which  he  has  learned  from 
dreams.  Those  dreams  have  been  of  the  great  and  wonderful, 
and  lovely,  of  all  which  in  these  has  yet  been  disclosed  to  him  : 
his  thoughts  have  dwelt  among  the  wonders  of  nature,  and 
among  the  loftiest  spirits  of  men — heroes,  and  sages,  and  saints  ; 
— those  whose  deeds,  and  thoughts,  and  hopes,  were  high 
above  ordinary  mortality,  have  been  the  familiar  companions  of 
his  soul.     To  love  and  to  admire  has  been  the  Joy  of  his  ex- 


333 

istence.  Love  and  admiration  are  the  pleasures  he  will  de- 
mand of  the  world.  For  these  he  has  searched  eagerly  into  the 
ages  that  ai-e  gone  :  but  with  more  ardent  and  peremptory  ex- 
pectation he  requires  them  of  that  in  which  his  own  lot  is  cast : 
for  to  look  on  life  with  hopes  of  happiness  is  a  necessity  of 
his  nature,  and  to  him  there  is  no  happiness  but  such  as  is  sur- 
rounded with  excellence. 

See  first  how  this  spirit  will  affect  his  judgment  of  moral 
character,  in  those  with  whom  chance  may  connect  him  in  the 
common  relations  of  life.  It  is  of  those  with  whom  he  is  to 
live,  that  his  soul  first  demands  this  food  of  her  desires.  From 
their  conversation,  their  looks,  their  actions,  their  lives,  she 
asks  for  excellence.  To  ask  from  all  and  to  ask  in  vain,  would 
be  too  dismal  to  bear  :  it  would  disturb  him  too  deeply  with 
doubt  and  perplexity,  and  fear.  In  this  hope,  and  in  the  revol- 
ting of  his  thoughts  from  the  possibility  of  disappointment,  there 
is  a  preparation  for  self-delusion  :  there  is  an  unconscious  de- 
termination that  his  soul  shall  be  satisfied  ;  an  obstinate  will  to 
find  good  every  where.  And  thus  his  first  study  of  mankind  is 
a  continued  effort  to  read  in  them  the  expression  of  his  own 
feelings.  He  catches  at  every  uncertain  shew  and  shadowy _ 
resemblance  of  what  he  seeks  ;  and  unsuspicious  in  innocence, 
he  is  first  won  with  those  appearances  of  good  which  are  in 
fact  only  false  pretensions.  But  this  error  is  not  carried  far: 
for  there  is  a  sort  of  instinct  of  rectitude,  which  like  the  pres- 
sure of  a  talisman  given  to  baffle  the  illusions  of  enchantment, 
warns  a  pure  mind  against  hypocrisy. — There  is  another  delu- 
sion more  difflcult  to  resist  and  more  slowly  dissipated.  It  is 
when  he  finds,  as  he  often  will,  some  of  the  real  features  of 
excellence  in  the  purity  of  their  native  form.  For  then  his 
rapid  imagination  will  gather  round  them  all  the  kindred 
features  that  are  wanting  to  perfect  beauty  ;  and  make  for  him, 
where  he  could  not  find,  the  moral  creature  of  his  expectation  : 
— peopling,  even  from  this  human  world,  his  little  cilcle  of  af- 
fection, with  forms  as  fair  as  his  heart  desired  for  its  love. 

But  when,  from  the  eminence  of  life  which  he  has  reached, 
he  lifts  up  his  eyes,  and  sends  out  his  spirit  to  range  over  the 
great  scene  that  is  opening  before  him  and  around  him, — the 
whole  prospect  of  civilized  life — so  wide  and  so  magnificent: — 
when  he  begins  to  contemplate,  in  their  various  stations  of 
power  or  splendor,  the   leaders  of  mankind — those  men  on 


334 

whose  wisdom  are  hung  the  fortunes  of  nations — those  whose 
genius  and  valor  wield  the  heroism  of  a  people  ; — or  those,  in 
no  inferior  "pride  of  place,"  whose  sway  is  over  the  mind  of 
society, — chiefs  in  the  realm  of  imagination, — interpreters  of 
the  secrets  of  nature, — rulers  of  human  opinion what  won- 
der, when  he  looks  on  all  this  living  scene,  that  his  heart 
should  burn  with  strong  affection,  that  he  should  feel  that  his  own 
happiness  will  be  forever  interwoven  with  the  interests  of  man- 
kind ? — Here  then  the  sanguine  hope  with  which  he  looks  on  life, 
will  again  be  blended  with  his  passionate  desire  of  excellence  ; 
and  he  will  still  be  impelled  to  single  out  some,  on  whom  his 
imagination  and  his  hopes  may  repose.  To  whatever  department 
of  human  thought  or  action  his  mind  is  turned  with  interest,  ei- 
ther by  the  sway  of  public  passion  or  by  its  own  impulse,  among 
statesmen,  and  warriors,  and  philosophers,  and  poets,  he  will 
distinguish  some  favored  names  on  which  he  may  satisfy  his  ad- 
miration And  there,  just  as  in  the  little  circle  of  his  own  ac- 
quaintance, seizing  eagerly  on  every  merit  they  possess,  he  will 
supply  more  from  his  own  credulous  hope,  completing  real  with 
imagined  excellence,  till  living  men,  with  all  their  imperfec- 
tions, become  to  him  the  representatives  of  his  perfect  ideal 
creation  : — Till,  multiplying  his  objects  of  reverence,  as  he 
enlarges  his  prospect  of  life,  he  will  have  surrounded  himself 
with  idols  of  his  own  hands,  and  his  imagination  will  seem  to 
discern  a  glory  in  the  countenance  of  the  age,  which  is  but  the 
reflection  of  its  own  effulgence. 

He  will  possess,  therefore,  in  the  creative  power  of  gene- 
rous hope,  a  preparation  for  illusory  and  exaggerated  admira- 
tion of  the  age  in  which  he  lives  : — and  this  pre-disposition 
will  meet  with  many  favoring  circumstances,  when  he  has  grown 
up  under  a  system  of  education  like  ours,  which  (as  perhaps  all 
education  must  that  is  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  distinct  and  em- 
bodied class,  who  therefore  bring  to  it  the  peculiar  and  heredi- 
tary prejudices  of  their  order)  has  controled  his  imagination  to 
a  reverence  of  former  times,  with  an  unjust  contempt  of  his 
own. — For  no  sooner  does  he  break  loose  from  this  control, 
and  begin  to  feel,  as  he  contemplates  the  world  for  himself, 
how  much  there  is  surrounding  him  on  all  sides,  that  gratifies 
his  noblest  desires,  than  there  springs  up  in  him  an  indignant 
sense  of  injustice,  both  to  the  age  and  to  his  own  mind  :  and  he 
is  impelled  warmly  and  eagerly  to  give  loose   to  the  feelings 


336 

that  have  been  held  in  bondage,  to  seek  out  and  to  delight  in 
finding  excellence  that  will  vindicate  the  insulted  world,  while 
it  justifies  too,  his  resentment  of  his  own  undue  subjection,  and 
exalts  the  value  of  his  new  found  liberty. 

Add  to  this,  that  secluded  as  he  has  been  from  knowledge, 
and,  in  the  imprisoning  circle  of  one  system  of  ideas,  cut  off 
from  his  share  in  the  thoughts  and  feelings  that  are  stirring 
among  men,  he  finds  himself,  at  the  first  steps  of  his  liberty, 
in  a  new  intellectual  world.  Passions  and  powers  which  he 
knew  not  of,  start  up  in  his  soul.  The  human  mind,  which  he 
had  seen  but  under  one  aspect,  now  presents  to  him  a  thousand 
unknown  and  beautiful  forms.  He  sees  it,  in  its  varying  pow- 
ers, glancing  over  nature  with  restless  curiosity,  and  with  impe- 
tuous energy  striving  for  ever  against  the  barriers  which  she  has 
placed  around  it ;  sees  it  with  divine  power  creating  from  dark 
materials  living  beauty,  and  fixing  all  its  high  and  transported 
fancies  in  imperishable  forms. — In  the  world  of  knowledge, 
and  science,  and  art,  and  genius,  he  treads  as  a  stranger  : — 
in  the  confusion  of  new  sensations,  bewildered  in  delights,  all 
seems  beautiful ;  all  seems  admirable.  And  therefore  he  en- 
gages eagerly  in  the  pursuit  of  false  or  insufficient  philosophy  ; 
he  is  won  by  the  allurements  of  licentious  art ;  he  follows 
with  wonder  the  irregular  transports  of  undisciplined  imagina- 
tion.— Nor  where  the  objects  of  his  admiration  are  worthy,  is 
he  yet  skilful  to  distinguish  between  the  acquisitions  which  the 
age  has  made  for  itself,  and  that  large  proportion  of  its  wealth 
which  it  has  only  inherited  ;  but  in  his  delight  of  discovery 
and  growing  knowledge,  all  that  is  new  to  his  own  mind  seems 
to  him  new-born  to  the  world. — To  himself  every  fresh  idea 
appears  instruction  :  every  new  exertion,  acquisition  of  power: 
he  seems  just  called  to  the  consciousness  of  himself,  and  to  his 
true  place  in  the  intellectual  world ;  and  gratitude  and  rever- 
ence towards  those  to  whom  he  owes  this  recovery  of  his  dig- 
nity, tends  much  to  subject  him  to  the  dominion  of  minds  that 
were  not  formed  by  nature  to  be  the  leaders  of  opinion. 

All  the  tumult  and  glow  of  thought  and  imagination,  which 
seizes  on  a  mind  of  power  in  such  a  scene,  tends  irresistibly 
to  bind  it  by  stronger  attachment  of  love  and  admiration  to  its 
own  age.  And  there  is  one  among  the  new  emotions  which 
belong  to  its  entrance  on  the  world — one — almost  the  noblest 
of  all — in  which  this  exaltation  of  the  age  is  essentially  min- 


336 

gled.  The  faith  in  the  perpetual  progression  of  human  nature 
towards  perfection,  gives  birth  to  such  lofty  dreams,  as  se- 
cure to  it  the  devout  assent  of  imagination ;  and  it  will  be  yet 
more  grateful  to  a  heart  just  opening  to  hope,  flushed  with  the 
consciousness  of  new  strength,  and  exulting  in  the  prospect  of 
destined  achievements.  There  is,  therefore,  almost  a  compul- 
sion on  generous  and  enthusiastic  spirits,  as  they  trust  that 
the  future  shall  transend  the  present,  to  believe  that  the  pre- 
sent transends  the  past.  It  is  only  on  an  undue  love  and  ad- 
miration of  their  own  age,  that  they  can  build  their  confidence 
in  the  amelioration  of  the  human  race.  Nor  is  this  faith, — 
which  in  some  shape,  will  always  be  the  creed  of  virtue, — 
without  apparent  reason,  even  in  the  erroneous  form  in  which 
the  young  adopt  it.  For  there  is  a  perpetual  acquisition  of 
knowledge  and  art, — an  unceasing  progress  in  many  of  the 
modes  of  exertion  of  the  human  mind, — a  perpetual  unfolding 
of  virtues  with  the  changing  manners  of  society  : — and  it  is  not 
for  a  young  mind  to  compare  what  is  gained  with  what  has 
passed  away  ;  to  discern  that  amidst  the  incessant  intellectual 
activity  of  the  race,  the  intellectual  power  of  individual  minds 
may  be  falling  off;  and  that  amidst  accumulating  knowledge 
lofty  science  may  disappear  ;^and  still  less,  to  judge,  in  the 
more  complicated  moral  character  of  a  people,  what  is  progres- 
sion, and  what  is  decline. 

Into  a  mind  possessed  with  this  persuasion  of  the  perpetual 
progress  of  man,  there  may  even  imperceptibly  steal  both  from 
the  belief  itself,  and  from  many  of  the  views  on  which  it  rests 
— something  like  a  distrust  of  the  wisdom  of  great  men  of  for- 
mer ages,  and  with  the  reverence — which  no  delusion  will  ever 
overpower  in  a  pure  mind — for  their  greatness,  a  fancied  dis- 
cernment of  imperfection; — of  incomplete  excellence,  which 
wanted  for  its  accomplishment  the  advantages  of  later  improve- 
ments :  there  will  be  a  surprize,  that  so  much  should  have  been 
possible  in  times  so  ill  prepared ;  and  even  the  study  of  their 
works  may  be  sometimes  rather  the  curious  research  of  a  specu- 
lative enquirer,  than  the  devout  contemplation  of  an  enthusiast; 
the  watchful  and  obedient  heart  of  a  disciple  listening  to  the  in- 
spiration of  his  master. 

Here  then  is  the  power  of  delusion  that  will  gather  round 
the  first  steps  of  a  youthful  spirit,  and  throw  enchantment  over 
the  world  in  which  it  is  to  dwell.     Hope  realizing  its  own 


967 

dreams  : — Ignorance  dazzled  and  ravished  with  sudden  sun- 
shine : — Power  awakened  and  rejoicing  in  its  own  conscious- 
ness : — Enthusiasm  kindling  among  multiplying  images  of  great- 
ness and  beauty;  and  enamored,  above  all,  of  one  splendid  error: 
and,  springing  from  all  these,  such  a  rapture  of  life  and  hope, 
and  joy,  that  tiie  soul,  in  the  power  of  its  happiness,  transmutes 
things  essentially  repugnant  to  it,  into  the  excellence  of  its  own 
nature  : — these  are  the  spells  that  cheat  the  eye  of  the  mind 
with  illusion.  It  is  under  these  influences  that  a  young  man 
of  ardent  spirit  gives  all  his  love,  and  reverence,  and  zeal,  to 
productions  of  art,  to  theories  of  science,  to  opinions,  to  sys- 
tems of  feeling,  and  to  characters  distinguished  in  the  world, 
that  are  far  beneath  his  own  original  dignity. 

Now  as  this  delusion  springs  not  from  his  worse  but  his  bet- 
ter nature,  it  seems  as  if  there  could  be  no  warning  to  him  from 
within  of  his  danger  :  for  even  the  impassioned  joy  which  he 
draws  at  times  from  the  works  of  Nature,  and  from  those  of 
her  mightier  sons,  and  which  would  startle  him  from  a  dream 
of  unworthy  passion,  serves  only  to  fix  the  infatuation  : — for 
those  deep  emotions,  proving  to  him  that  his  heart  is  uncorrupt- 
ed,  justify  to  him  all  its  workings,  and  his  mind  confiding  and 
delighting  in  itself,  yields  to  the  guidance  of  its  own  blind  im- 
pulses of  pleasure.  His  chance,  therefore,  of  security,  is  the 
chance  that  the  greater  number  of  objects  occurring  to  attract 
his  honorable  passions,  may  be  worthy  of  them.  But  we  have 
seen  that  the  whole  power  of  circumstances  is  collected  to  ga- 
ther round  him  such  objects  and  influences  as  will  bend  his  high 
passions  to  unworthy  enjoyment.  He  engages  in  it  with  a 
heart  and  understanding  unspoiled  :  but  they  cannot  long  be 
misapplied  with  impunity.  They  are  drawn  gradually  into  clo- 
ser sympathy  with  the  falsehoods  they  have  adopted,  till,  his 
very  nature  seeming  to  change  under  the  corruption,  there  dis- 
appears from  it  the  capacity  of  those  higher  perceptions  and 
pleasures  to  which  he  was  born  :  and  he  is  cast  off"  from  the 
communion  of  exalted  minds,  to  live  and  to  perish  with  the  age 
to  which  he  has  surrendered  himself. 

If  minds  under  these  circumstances  of  danger  are  preserved 
from  decay  and  overthrow,  it  can  seldom,  I  think,  be  to  them- 
selves that  they  owe  their  deliverance.  It  must  be  to  a  fortu- 
nate chance  which  places  them  under  the  influence  of  some 
more  enlightened  mind,  from  which  they  may  first  gain  suspi- 
43 


338 

cion  and  afterwards  wisdom.  There  is  a  philosophy,  which, 
leading  them  by  the  light  of  their  best  emotions  to  the  princi- 
ples which  should  give  life  to  thought  and  law  to  genius,  will 
discover  to  them  in  clear  and  perfect  evidence,  the  falsehood 
of  the  errors  that  have  misled  them  :  and  restore  them  to  them- 
selves. And  this  philosophy  they  will  be  willing  to  hear  and 
wise  to  understand  ;  but  they  must  be  led  into  its  mysteries  by 
some  guiding  hand  ;  for  they  want  the  impulse  or  the  power  to 
penetrate  of  themselves  the  recesses. 

If  a  superior  mind  should  assume  the  protection  of  others 
just  beginning  to  move  among  the  dangers  I  have  described, 
it  would  probably  be  found,  that  delusions  springing  from  their 
own  virtuous  activity,  were  not  the  only  difficulties  to  be  en- 
countered. Even  alter  suspicion  is  awakened,  the  subjection 
to  falsehood  may  be  prolonged  and  deepened  by  many  weak- 
nesses both  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  nature ;  weaknesses 
that  will  sometimes  shake  the  authority  of  acknowledged  truth. 
There  may  be  intellectual  indolence  ;  an  indisposition  in  the 
mind  to  the  effort  of  combining  the  ideas  it  actually  possesses, 
and  bringing  into  distinct  form  the  knowledge,  which  in  its  ele- 
ments is  already  its  own  : — there  may  be,  where  the  heart  re- 
sists the  sway  of  opinion,  misgivings  and  modest  self-mistrust, 
in  him  who  sees,  that  if  he  trusts- his  heart,  he  must  slight  the 
judgment  of  all  around  him  : — there  may  be  too  habitual  yield- 
ing to  authority,  consisting,  more  than  in  indolence  or  diffi- 
dence, in  a  conscious  helplessness,  and  incapacity  of  the  mind 
to  maintain  itself  in  its  own  place  against  the  weight  of  general 
opinion  ; — and  there  may  be  too  indiscriminate,  too  undiscipli- 
ned a  sympathy  with  others,  which  by  the  mere  infection  of 
feeling  will  subdue  the  reason. — There  must  be  a  weakness  in 
dejection  to  him  who  thinks,  with  sadness,  if  his  faith  be  pure, 
how  gross  is  the  error  of  the  multitude,  and  that  multitude  how 
vast : — a  reluctance  to  embrace  a  creed  that  excludes  so  many 
whom  he  loves,  so  many  whom  his  youth  has  revered  : — a  diffi- 
culty to  his  understanding  to  believe  that  those  whom  he  knows  to 
be,  in  much  that  is  good  and  honorable,  his  superiors,  can  be 
beneath  him  in  this  which  is  the  most  impoitant  of  all : — a  sym- 
pathy pleading  importunately  at  his  heart  to  descend  to  the  fel- 
lowship of  his  brothers,  and  to  take  their  faith  and  wisdom  for 
his  own. — How  often,  when  under  the  impulses  of  those  solemn 
hours,  in  which  he  has  felt  with  clearer  insight  and  deeper  faith 


339 

his  sacred  truths,  he  h^bors  to  win  to  his  own  belief  those  whom 
he  loves,  will  he  be  checked  by  their  indifference  or  their  laugh- 
ter!  and  will  he  not  bear  back  to  his  ineditations  a  painful  and 
disheartening  sorrow, — a  gloomy  discontent  in  that  faith  which 
takes  in  but  a  portion  of  those  whom  he  wishes  to  include  in  all 
his  blessings?  Will  he  not  be  enfeebled  by  a  distraction  of  in- 
consistent desires,  when  he  feels  so  strongly  that  the  faith  which 
fills  his  heart,  the  circle  within  which  he  would  embrace  all 
he  loves — would  repose  all  his  wishes  and  hopes,  and  enjoy- 
ments, is  yet  incommensurate  with  his  affections  ? 

Even  when  the  mind,  strong  in  reason  and  just  feeling  united, 
and  relying  on  its  strength,  has  attached  itself  to  Truth,  how 
much  is  there  in  the  course  and  accidents  of  life  that  is  for  ever 
silently  at  work  for  its  degradation.  There  are  pleasures  deem- 
ed harmless,  that  lay  asleep  the  recollections  of  innocence  : — 
there  are  pursuits  held  honorable,  or  imposed  by  duty,  that  op- 
press the  moral  spirit  • — above  all  there  is  that  perpetual  con- 
nection with  ordinary  minds  in  the  common  intercourse  of  so- 
ciety ; — that  restless  activity  of  frivolous  conversation,  where 
men  of  all  characters  and  all  pursuits  mixing  together,  nothing 
mav  be  talked  of  that  is  not  of  common  interest  to  all — nothing, 
therefore,  but  those  obvious  thoughts  and  feelings  that  float  over 
the  surface  of  things  : — and  all  which  is  drawn  from  the  depth 
of  Nature,  all  which  impassioned  feeling  has  made  original  in 
thought,  would  be  misplaced  and  obtrusive.  The  talent  that 
is  allowed  to  shew  itself  is  that  which  can  repay  admiration  by 
furnishing  entertainment : — and  the  display  to  which  it  is  invi- 
ted is  that  which  flatters  the  vulgar  pride  of  society,  by  aba- 
sing what  is  too  high  in  excellence  for  its  sympathy.  A  dan- 
gerous seduction  to  talents — which  would  make  language — that 
was  given  to  exalt  the  soul  by  the  fervid  expression  of  its  pure 
emotions — the  instrument  of  its  degradation.  And  even  when 
there  is,  as  the  instance  1  have  supposed,  too  much  uprightness 
to  choose  so  dishonorable  a  triumph,  there  is  a  necessity  of 
manners,  by  which  every  one  must  be  controled  who  mixes 
much  in  society,  not  to  offend  tliose  with  uhoni  he  converses 
by  his  superiority  ;  and  whatever  be  the  native  spirit  of  a  mind, 
it  is  evident  that  this  perpetual  adaptation  of  itself  to  others — 
this  watchfulness  against  its  own  rising  feelings,  this  studied 
sympathy  with  mediocrity — must  pollute  and  impoverish  the 
sources  of  its  strength. 


340 

From  much  &f  its  own  weaknees,  and  from  all  the  errors  of 
its  misleading  activities,  may  generous  youth  be  rescued  by 
the  interposition  of  an  enlightened  mind  ;  and  in  some  degree 
it  may  be  guarded  by  instruction  against  the  injuries  to  which 
it  is  exposed  in  the  world.  His  lot  is  happy  who  owes  this 
protection  to  friendship:  who  has  found  in  a  friend  the  watch- 
ful guardian  of  his  mind.  He  will  not  be  deluded,  having  that 
light  to  guide :  he  will  not  slumber  with  that  voice  to  inspire ; 
he  will  not  be  desponding  or  dejected,  with  that  bosom  to  lean 
on. — But  how  many  must  there  be  whom  Heaven  has  left  un- 
provided, except  in  their  own  strength  ;  who  must  maintain 
themselves,  unassisted  and  solitary,  against  their  own  infirmi- 
ties and  the  opposition  of  the  world  !  For  such  there  may  be 
yet  a  protec'or.  If  a  teacher  should  stand  up  in  their  genera- 
tion, conspicuous  above  the  multitude  in  superior  power,  and 
yet  more  in  the  assertion  and  proclamation  of  disregarded 
Truth — to  Him — to  his  cheering  or  summoning  voice  all  hearts 
would  turn,  whose  deep  sensibility  has  been  oppressed  by  the 
indilTerence,  or  misled  by  the  seduction  of  the  times.  Of  one 
such  teacher  who  has  been  given  to  our  own  age,  you  have  de- 
scribed the  power  when  you  said,  that  in  his  annunciation  of 
truths  he  seemed  to  speak  in  thunders.  I  believe  that  mighty 
voice  has  not  been  poured  out  in  vain :  that  there  are  hearts 
that  have  received  into  their  inmost  depths  all  its  var3ing  tones  : 
and  that  even  now,  there  are  many  to  whom  the  name  of  Words- 
worth calls  up  the  recollection  of  their  weakness,  and  the 
consciousness  of  their  strength. 

To  give  to  the  reason  and  eloquence  of  one  man,  this  com- 
plete control  over  the  minds  of  others,  it  is  necessary,  I  think, 
that  he  should  be  born  in  their  own  times.  For  thus  what- 
ever false  opinion  of  pre-eminence  is  attached  to  the  Age,  be- 
comes at  once  a  title  of  reverence  to  him:  and  when  with  dis- 
tinguished powers  he  sets  himself  apart  from  the  Age,  and 
above  it  as  the  Teacher  of  high  but  ill-understood  Truths,  he 
will  appear  at  once  to  a  generous  imagination,  in  the  dignity  of 
one  whose  superior  mind  outsteps  the  rapid  progress  of  socie- 
ty, and  will  derive  from  illusion  itself  the  power  to  disperse 
illusions.  It  is  probable  too,  that  he  who  labors  under  the  er- 
rors I  have  described,  might  feel  the  power  of  Truth  in  a  wri- 
ter of  another  age,  yet  fail  in  applying  the  full  force  of  his 
principles  to  his  own  times :  but  when  he  receives  them  from 


341 

a  hving  Teacher,  there  Is  no  room  for  doubt  or  misapplica- 
tion. It  is  the  errors  of  his  own  generation  that  are  denounc- 
ed ;  and  whatever  authority  he  may  acknowledge  in  the  ins- 
tructions of  his  Master,  strikes,  with  inevitable  force,  at  his 
veneration  for  the  opinions  and  characters  of  his  own  times.— 
And  finally  there  will  be  gathered  round  a  living  Teacher,  who 
speaks  to  the  deeper  soul,  many  feelings  of  human  love,  that 
will  place  the  infirmities  of  the  heart  peculiarly  under  his  con- 
trol;  at  the  same  time  that  they  blend  with  and  animate  the 
attachment  to  his  cause.  So  that  there  will  flow  from  him 
something  of  the  peculiar  influence  of  a  friend  :  while  his 
doctrines  will  be  embraced  and  asserted,  and  vindicated  with 
the  ardent  zeal  of  a  disciple,  such  as  can  scarcely  be  carried 
back  to  distant  times,  or  connected  with  voices  that  speak  only 
from  the  grave. 

I  have  done  what  I  proposed.  I  have  related  to  you  as  much 
as  I  have  had  opportunities  of  knowing  of  the  difficulties  from 
within  and  from  without,  which  may  oppose  the  natural  devel- 
opement  of  true  feeling  and  right  opinion,  in  a  mind  formed 
with  some  capacity  for  good  :  and  the  resources  which  such  a 
mind  may  derive  from  an  enlightened  contemporary  writer. — 
If  what  I  have  said  be  just,  it  is  certain  that  this  influence  will 
be  felt  more  particulary  in  a  work,  adapted  by  its  mode  of  pub- 
lication to  address  the  feelings  of  the  time,  and  to  bring  to  its 
readers  repeated  admonition  and  repeated  consolation. 

I  have  perhaps  presumed  too  far  in  trespassing  on  your  at- 
tention, and  in  giving  way  to  my  own  thoughts  :  but  I  was 
unwilling  to  leave  any  thing  unsaid  which  might  induce  you  to 
consider  with  favor  the  request  I  was  anxious  to  make,  in  the 
name  of  all  whose  state  of  mind  I  have  described,  that  you 
would  at  times  regard  us  more  particularly  in  your  instructions. 
I  cannot  judge  to  what  degree  it  may  be  in  your  power  to  give 
the  Truth  you  teach,  a  control  over  understandings  that  have 
matured  their  strength  in  error  :  but  in  our  class  I  am  sure 
you  will  have  docile  learners.  JNIathetes. 

The  Friend  might  rest  satisfied  tliat  his  exertions  thus  far 
have  not  been  wholly  unprofitable,  if  no  other  proof  had  been 
given  of  their  influence,  than  that  of  having  called  forth  the 
foregoing  letter,  with  which  he  has  been  so  much  interested, 
that  he  could  not  deny  himself  the  pleasure  of  communica- 
ting it  to  his  readers. — In  answer  to  his  Corresdondent,  it  need 


343 

scarcely  here  be  repeated,  that  one  of  the  main  purposes  of 
his  work  is  to  weigh,  honestly  and  thoughtfully,  the  moral 
worth  and  intellectual  power  of  the  age  in  which  we  live  ;  to 
ascertain  our  gain  and  our  loss ;  to  determine  what  we  are  in 
ourselves  positively,  and  what  we  are  compared  with  our  an- 
cestors ;  and  thus,  and  by  every  other  means  within  his  power, 
to  discover  what  may  be  hoped  for  future  times,  what  and  how 
lamentable  are  the  evils  to  be  feared,  and  how  far  there  is 
cause  for  fear.  If  this  attempt  should  not  be  made  wholly  in 
vain,  my  ingenuous  Correspondent,  and  all  who  are  in  a  state 
of  mind  resembling  that  of  which  he  gives  so  lively  a  picture, 
will  be  enabled  more  readily  and  surely  to  distinguish  false 
from  legitimate  objects  of  admiration  :  and  thus  may  the  per- 
sonal errors  which  he  would  guard  against,  be  more  effectually 
prevented  or  removed,  by  the  developeraent  of  general  truth 
for  a  general  purpose,  than  by  instructions  specifically  adapted 
to  himself  or  to  the  class  of  which  he  is  the  able  representa- 
tive. There  is  a  life  and  spirit  in  knowledge  which  we  ex- 
tract from  truths  scattered  for  the  benefit  of  all,  and  which  the 
mind,  by  its  own  activity,  has  appropriated  to  itself — a  life  and 
spirit,  which  is  seldom  found  in  knowledge  communicated  by 
formal  and  direct  precepts,  even  when  they  are  exalted  and 
endeared  by  reverence  and  love  for  the  teacher. 

Nevertheless,  though  I  trust  that  the  assistance  which  my 
Correspondent  has  done  me  the  honor  to  request,  will  in 
course  of  time  flow  naturally  from  my  labors,  in  a  manner  that 
will  best  serve  him,  I  cannot  resist  the  inclination  to  connect, 
at  present,  with  his  letter  a  few  remarks  of  direct  application 
to  the  subject  of  it — remarks,  I  say,  for  to  such  I  shall  con- 
fine myself,  independent  of  the  main  point  out  of  which  his 
complaint  and  request  both  proceed,  I  mean  the  assumed  infe- 
riority of  the  present  age  in  moral  dignity  and  intellectual  pow- 
er, to  those  which  have  preceded  it.  For  if  the  fact  were 
true,  that  we  had  even  surpassed  our  ancestors  in  the  best 
of  what  is  good,  the  main  part  of  the  dangers  and  impediments 
which  my  Correspondent  has  feelingly  portraj^ed,  could  not 
cease  to  exist  for  minds  like  his,  nor  indeed  would  they  be 
much  diminished  ;  as  they  arise  out  of  the  constitution  of  things, 
fiom  the  nature  of  youth,  from  the  laws  that  govern  the  growth 
of  the  faculties,  and  from  the  necessary  condition  of  the  great 
body  of  mankind.  Let  us  throw  ourselves  back  to  the  age  of 
Elizabeth,  and  call  up  to   mind  the   heroes,  the   warriors,   the 


343 

statesmen,  the  poets,  the  divines,  and  the  moral  philosophers, 
with  which  the  reign  of  the  virgin  queen  was  illustrated.  Or 
if  we  be  more  strongly  attracted  by  the  moral  purity  and 
greatness,  and  that  sanctity  of  civil  and  religious  duty,  with 
which  the  tyranny  of  Charles  the  First  was  struggled  against, 
let  us  cast  our  eyes,  in  the  hurry  of  admiration,  round  that 
circle  ot  glorious  patriots — but  do  not  let  us  be  persuaded,  that 
each  of  these,  in  his  course  of  discipline,  was  uniformly  helped 
forward  by  those  with  whom  he  associated,  or  by  those  whose 
care  it  was  to  direct  him.  Then  as  now,  existed  objects,  to 
which  the  wisest  attached  undue  importance;  then,  as  now, 
judgement  was  misled  by  factions  and  parties — time  wasted  in 
controversies  fruitless,  except  as  far  as  they  quickened  the 
faculties ;  then  as  now,  minds  were  venerated  or  idolized, 
which  owed  their  influence  to  the  weakness  of  their  contem- 
poraries rather  than  to  their  own  power.  Then,  though  great 
actions  were  wrought,  and  great  works  in  literature  and  sci- 
ence produced,  yet  the  general  taste  was  capricious,  fantasti- 
cal, or  groveling :  and  in  this  point  as  in  all  others,  was  youth 
subject  to  delusion,  frequent  in  proportion  to  the  liveliness  of 
the  sensibility,  and  strong  as  the  strength  of  the  imagination- 
Every  age  hath  abounded  in  instances  of  parents,  kindred,  and 
friends,  who,  by  indirect  influence  of  example,  or  by  positive 
injunction  and  exhortation  have  diverted  or  discouraged  the 
youth,  who,  in  the  simplicity  and  purity  of  nature,  had  deter- 
mined to  follow  his  intellectual  genius  through  good  and 
through  evil,  and  had  devoted  himself  to  knowledge,  to  the 
pr.ictice  of  virtue  and  the  preservation  of  integrity,  in  slight 
of  temporal  rewards.  Above  all,  have  not  the  common  duties 
and  cares  of  common  life,  at  all  times  exposed  men  to  injury, 
from  causes  whose  action  is  the  more  fatal  from  being  silent 
and  unremitting,  and  which,  wherever  it  was  not  jealously 
watched  and  steadily  opposed,  must  have  pressed  upon  and 
consumed  the  diviner  spirit. 

There  are  two  errors,  into  which  we  easily  slip  when  thinking 
of  past  times.  One  lies  in  forgetting  in  the  excellence  of  what 
remains,  the  large  overbalance  of  worthlessness  that  has  been 
swept  away.  Ranging  over  the  wide  tracts  of  antiquity,  the 
situation  of  the  mind  may  be  likened  to  that  of  a  traveller*  in 

*Vide  Ashe's  Travels  in   Ainei-ica. 


344 

some  unpeopled  part  of  America,  who  is  attracted  to  the  burM 
place  of  one  of  the  primitive  inhabitants.  It  is  conspicuous 
upon  an  eminence,  "  a  mount  upon  a  mount!"  He  digs  into 
it,  and  finds  that  it  contains  the  bones  of  a  man  of  mighty  sta- 
ture :  and  he  is  tempted  to  give  way  to  a  belief,  that  as  there 
were  giants  in  those  days,  so  that  all  men  were  giants.  But  a 
second  and  wiser  thought  may  suggest  to  him,  that  this  tomb 
would  never  have  forced  itself  upon  his  notice,  if  it  had  not 
contained  a  body  that  was  distinguished  from  others,  that  of  a 
man  who  had  been  selected  as  a  chieftain  or  ruler  for  the  very 
reason  that  he  surpassed  the  rest  of  his  tribe  in  stature,  and 
who  now  lies  thus  conspicuously  inhumed  upon  the  mountain- 
top,  while  the  bones  of  his  followers  are  laid  unobtrusively 
together  in  their  burrows  upon  the  plain  below.  The  second 
habitual  error  is,  that  in  this  comparison  of  ages  we  divide  time 
merely  into  past  and  present,  and  place  these  into  the  balance 
to  be  weighed  against  each  other,  not  considering  that  the  pre- 
sent is  in  our  estimation  not  moie  than  a  period  of  thirty  years, 
or  half  a  century  at  most,  and  that  the  past  is  a  mighty  accumu- 
lation of  many  such  periods,  perhaps  the  whole  of  recorded 
time,  or  at  least  the  whole  of  that  portion  of  it  in  which  our 
own  country  has  been  distinguished.  We  may  illustrate  this 
by  the  familiar  use  of  the  words  Ancient  and  Modern,  when 
applied  to  poetry — what  can  be  more  inconsiderate  or  unjust 
than  to  compare  a  few  existing  writers  with  the  whole  succes- 
sion of  their  progenitors  ?  The  delusion,  from  the  moment  that 
our  thoughts  are  directed  to  it,  seems  too  gross  to  deserve  men. 
tion  ;  yet  men  will  talk  for  hours  upon  poetry,  balancing  against 
each  other  the  words  Ancient  and  Modern,  and  be  unconscious 
that  they  have  fallen  into  it. 

These  observations  are  not  made  as  implying  a  dissent  from 
the  belief  of  my  Correspondent,  that  the  moral  spirit  and  in- 
tellectual powers  of  this  country  are  declining;  but  to  guard 
against  imqualijied  admiration,  even  in  cases  where  admiration 
has  been  rightly  fixed,  and  to  prevent  that  depression,  which 
must  necessarily  follow,  where  the  notion  of  the  peculiar  un- 
favorableness  of  the  present  times  to  dignity  of  mind,  has  been 
carried  too  far.  F^'or  in  proportion  as  we  imagine  obstacles  to 
exist  out  of  ourselves  to  retard  our  progress,  will,  in  fact,  our 
progress  be  retarded. Deeming  then,  that  in  all  ages  an  ar- 
dent mind  will  be  baffled   and  led  astray  in  the   manner  under 


345 

contemplation,  though  in  various  degrees,  I  shall  at  present 
content  myself  with  a  few  practical  and  desultory  comments 
upon  some  of  those  general  causes,  to  which  my  correspondent 
justly  attributes  the  errors  in  opinion,  and  the  lowering  or  dead- 
ening of  sentiment,  to  which  ingenuous  and  aspiring  youth  is 
exposed.  And  first,  for  the  heart-cheering  belief  in  the  perpe- 
tual progress  of  the  species  towards  a  point  of  unattainable 
perfection.  If  the  present  age  do  indeed  transcend  the  past 
in  what  is  most  beneficial  and  honourable,  he  that  perceives 
this,  being  in  no  error,  has  no  cause  for  complaint;  but  if  it  be 
not  so,  a  youth  of  genius  might,  it  should  seem,  be  preserved 
from  any  wrong  influence  of  this  faith,  by  an  insight  into  a 
simple  truth,  namely,  that  it  is  not  necessary,  in  order  to  satisfy 
the  desires  of  our  nature,  or  to  reconcile  us  to  the  economy  of 
providence,  that  there  should  be  at  all  times  a  continuous  ad- 
vance in  what  is  of  highest  worth.  In  fact  it  is  not,  as  a  wri- 
ter of  the  present  day  has  admirably  observed,  in  the  power  of 
fiction,  to  pourtray  in  words,  or  of  the  imagination  to  conceive 
in  spirit,  actions  or  characters  of  more  exalted  virtue,  than  those 
which  thousands  of  years  ago  have  existed  upon  earth,  as  we 
know  from  the  records  of  authentic  history.  Such  is  the  inhe- 
rent dignity  of  human  nature,  that  there  belong  to  it  sublimities 
of  virtues  which  all  men  may  attain,  and  which  no  man  can 
transcend  :  and  though  this  be  not  true  in  an  equal  degree,  of 
intellectual  power,  yet  in  the  persons  of  Plato,  Demosthenes, 
and  Homer, — and  in  those  of  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and  Lord 
Bacon, — were  enshrined  as  much  of  the  divinity  of  intellect 
as  the  inhabitants  of  this  planet  can  hope  \vill  ever  take  up  its 
abode  among  them.  But  the  question  is  not  of  the  power  or 
worth  of  individual  minds,  but  of  the  general  moral  or  intel- 
lectual merits  of  an  age — or  a  people,  or  of  the  human  race. 
Be  it  so — let  us  allow  and  believe  that  there  is  a  progress  in 
the  species  towards  unattainable  perfection,  or  whether  this  be 
so  or  not,  that  it  is  a  necessity  of  a  good  and  greatly-gifted  na- 
ture to  believe  it — surely  it  does  not  follow,  that  this  progress 
should  be  constant  in  those  virtues,  and  intellectual  qualities, 
and  in  those  departments  of  knowledge,  which  in  themselves 
absolutely  considered  are  of  most  value — things  indepcndant 
and  in  their  degree  indispensable.  The  progress  of  the  species 
neither  is  nor  can  be  like  that  of  a  Roman  road  in  a  right  line. 
It  mav  be  more  justly  co:t;parcd  to  that  of  a  river,  which  both 
14 


346 

in  its  smaller  reaches  and  larger  turnings,  is  frequently  forced 
back  towards  its  fountains,  by  objects  which  cannot  otherwise 
be  eluded  or  overcome  ;  yet  with  an  accompanying  impulse  that 
will  ensure  its  advancement  hereafter,  it  is  either  gaining 
strength  every  hour,  or  conquering  in  secret  some  difficulty,  by 
a  labor  that  contributes  as  effectually  to  further  it  in  its  course, 
as  when  it  moves  forward  uninterrupted  in  a  line,  direct  as  that 
of  the  Roman  road  with  which  we  began  the  comparison. 

It  suffices  to  content  the  mind,  though  there  may  be  an  ap- 
parent stagnation,  or  a  retrograde  movement  in  the  species,  that 
something  is  doing  which  is  necessary  to  be  done,  and  the 
effects  of  which,  will  in  due  time  appear; — that  something  is 
unremittingly  gaining,  either  in  secret  preparation  or  in  open 
and  triumphant  progress.  But  in  fact  here,  as  every  where, 
we  are  deceived  by  creations  which  the  mind  is  compelled  to 
make  for  itself:  w^e  speak  of  the  species  not  as  an  aggregate, 
but  as  endued  with  the  form  and  separate  life  of  an  individual. 
But  human  kind,  what  is  it  else  than  myriads  of  rational  beings 
in  various  degrees  obedient  to  their  Reason ;  soine  torpid, 
some  aspiring ;  some  in  eager  chace  to  the  right  hand,  some  to 
the  left ;  these  wasting  down  their  moral  nature,  and  these 
feeding  it  for  immortality  ?  A  w'hole  generation  may  appear 
even  to  sleep,  or  may  be  exasperated  with  rage — they  that 
compose  it,  tearing  each  other  to  pieces  with  more  than  brutal 
fury.  It  is  enough  for  complacency  and  hope,  that  scattered 
and  solitary  minds  are  always  laboring  somewhere  in  the  ser- 
vice of  truth  and  virtue  ;  and  that  by  the  sleep  of  the  multitude, 
the  energy  of  the  multitude  may  be  prepared  ;  and  that  by  the 
fury  of  the  people,  the  chains  of  the  people  may  be  broken. 
Happy  moment  was  it  for  England  v»'hen  her  Chaucer,  who  has 
rightly  been  called  the  morning  star  of  her  literature,  appeared 
above  the  horizon — when  her  Wickliff,  like  the  sun,"  shot  ori- 
ent beams"  through  the  night  of  Romish  superstition  ! — Yet 
may  the  darkness  and  the  desolating  hurricane  which  immedi- 
ately followed  in  the  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster,  be  deemed 
in  their  turn  a  blessing,  with  which  the  land  has  been  visited. 

May  I  return  to  the  tiiought  of  progress,  of  accumulation,  of 
increasing  light,  or  of  any  other  image  by  which  it  may  please 
U8  to  represent  the  improvement  of  the  species  ?  The  hundred 
years  that  followed  the  usurpation  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  were 
a  hurling-back  of  the  mind  of  the  country,  a  dilapidation,  an 


347 

extinction  ;  yet  institutions,  laws,  customs,  and  habtts,  were 
then  broken  clown,  which  would  not  have  been  so  readily,  nop 
perhaps  so  thoroughly  destroyed  by  the  gradual  influence  of 
increasing  knowledge  ;  and  under  the  oppression  of  which,  if 
they  had  continued  to  exist,  the  virtue  and  intellectual  prowess 
of  the  succeeding  century  could  not  have  appeared  at  all,  much 
less  could  they  have  displayed  themselves  with  that  eager  haste, 
and  with  those  beneficent  triumphs  which  will  to  the  end  of 
time  be  looked   back  upon   with  admiration  and  gratitude. 

If  the  foregoing  obvious  distinctions  be  once  clearly  perceived, 
and  steadily  kept  in  view,  I  do  not  see  why  a  belief  in  the  pro- 
gress of  human  nature  towards  perfection,  should  dispose  a  youth- 
ful mind,  however  enthusiastic,  to  an  undue  admiration  of  his 
own  age,  and  thus  tend  to  degrade  that  mind. 

But  let  me  strike  at  once  at  the  root  of  the  evil  complained 
of  in  my  Correspondent's  letter. — Protection  from  any  fatal 
effect  of  seductions,  and  hindrances  which  opinion  may  throw 
in  the  way  of  pure  and  high-minded  youth,  can  only  be  obtain- 
ed with  certainty  at  the  same  price  by  v.hich  every  thing  great 
and  good  is  obtained,  namely,  steady  dependence  upon  volun- 
tary and  self-originating  eflort,  and  upon  the  practice  of  self-ex- 
amination, sincerely  aimed  at  and  rigorously  enforced.  But  how 
is  this  to  be  expected  from  youth  ?  Is  it  not  to  demand  the  fruit 
when  the  blossom  is  barely  put  forth,  and  is  hourly  at  the  mer- 
cy of  frosts  and  winds  ?  To  expect  from  youth  these  virtues 
and  habits,  in  that  degree  of  excellence  to  which  in  mature 
years  they  7nay  be  carried,  would  indeed  be  preposterous.  Yet 
has  youth  many  helps  and  aptitudes,  for  the  discharge  of  these 
difficult  duties,  which  are  withdrawn  for  the  most  part  from 
the  more  advanced  stages  of  life.  For  youth  has  its  own  wealth 
and  independence  ;  it  is  rich  in  health  of  body  and  animal 
spirits,  in  its  sensibility  to  the  impressions  of  the  natural  uni- 
verse, in  the  conscious  growth  of  knowledge,  in  lively  sympa- 
thy and  familiar  communion  with  the  generous  actions  recorded 
in  history,  and  with  the  high  passions  of  poetry ;  and,  above 
all,  youth  is  rich  in  the  possession  of  time,  and  the  accompany- 
ing consciousness  of  freedom  and  power.  The  young  man  feels 
that  he  stands  at  a  distance  from  the  season  when  his  harvest 
is  to  be  reaped, — that  he  has  leisure  and  may  look  around — 
may  defer  both  the  choice  and  the  execution  of  his  purposes. 
If  he  makes  an  attempt  and  shall  fail,  new  hopes  immediately 


348 

rush  in,  and  uew  promisee.  Hence,  in  the  happy  confidence 
of  his  feelings,  and  in  the  elasticity  of  his  spirit,  neither  world- 
ly ambition,  nor  the  love  of  praise,  nor  dread  of  censure,  nor 
the  necessity  of  wordly  maintenance,  nor  any  of  those  causes 
which  tempt  or  compel  the  mind  habitually  to  look  out  of  itself 
for  support ;  neither  these,  nor  the  passions  of  envy,  fear,  ha- 
tred, despondency,  and  the  rankling  of  disappointed  hopes, 
(all  which  in  after  life  give  birth  to,  and  regulate  the  eflbrts  of 
men,  and  determine  their  opinions)  have  power  to  preside 
over  the  choice  of  the  young,  if  the  disposition  be  not  natural- 
ly bad,  or  the  circumstances  have  not  been  in  an  uncommon 
degree  unfavorable. 

In  contemplation,  then,  of  this  disinterested  and  free  condi- 
tion of  the  youthful  mind,  I  deem  it  in  many  points  peculiarly 
capable  of  searching  into  itself,  and  of  profiting  by  a  few  sim- 
ple questions — such  as  these  that  follow.  Am  I  chiefly  gratified 
by  the  exertion  of  my  power  from  the  pleasure  of  intellectual 
activity,  and  from  the  knowledge  thereby  acquired  ?  In  other 
words,  to  v^^hat  degree  do  I  value  my  faculties  and  my  attain- 
ments for  their  own  sakes  ?  or  are  they  chiefly  prized  by  me 
on  account  of  the  distinction  which  they  confer,  or  the  superi- 
ority which  they  give  me  over  others  .''  Am  I  aware  that  im- 
mediate influence  and  a  general  acknowledgement  of  merit,  are 
no  necessary  adjuncts  of  a  successful  adherence  to  study  and 
meditation,  in  those  departments  of  knowledge  which  are  of 
most  value  to  mankind  ?  that  a  recompence  of  honors  and  emol- 
lumenls  is  far  less  to  be  expected — in  fact,  that  there  is  little 
natural  connection  between  them  .''  Have  I  perceived  this  truth  ? 
and,  perceiving  it,  does  the  countenance  of  philosophy  conti- 
nue to  appear  as  bright  and  beautiful  in  my  eyes .'' — Has  no  haze 
bedimmed  it  ?  has  no  cloud  passed  over  and  hidden  from  me 
that  look  which  was  before  so  encouraging  ?  Knowing  that  it 
is  my  duty,  and  feeling  that  it  is  my  inclination,  to  mingle  as  a 
social  being  with  my  fellow  men  ;  prepared  also  to  submit  cheer- 
fully to  the  necessity  that  will  probably  exist  of  relinquishing, 
for  the  purpose  of  gaining  a  livelihood,  the  greatest  portion  of 
my  time  to  employments  where  I  shall  have  little  or  no  clioice 
how  or  v»^hen  I  am  to  act ;  have  I,  at  this  moment,  when  I  stand 
as  it  were  upon  the  threshold  of  the  busy  world,  a  clear  intui- 
tion of  that  pre-eminence  in  which  virtue  and  truth  (involving 
in  this  latter  word  the  sanctities  of  religion )  sit  enthroned  above 


349 

all  denominations  and  dignities  which,  in  various  degrees  of 
exaltation,  rule  over  the  desires  of  men  ? — Do  I  feel  that,  if 
their  solemn  mandates  shall  be  forgotten,  or  disregarded,  or  de- 
nied the  obedience  due  to  them  when  opjjosed  to  others,  I  shall 
not  only  have  lived  for  no  good  purpose,  but  that  I  shall  have  sa- 
crificed my  birth-right  as  a  rational  being  ;  and  that  every  other 
acquisition  will  be  a  bane  and  disgrace  to  me  ?  This  is  not  spoken 
witli  reference  to  such  sacrifices  as  present  themselves  to  the 
youthful  imagination  in  the  shape  of  crimes,  acts  by  which  the 
conscience  is  violated  ;  such  a  thought,  I  know,  would  be  recoiled 
from  at  once,  not  without  indignation  ;  but  I  write  in  the  spirit  of 
the  ancient  fable  of  Prodicus,  representing  the  choice  of  Hercu- 
les— Here  is  the  wort.d,  a  female  figure  approaching  at  the  head 
of  a  train  of  willing  or  giddy  follov/ers  : — her  air  and  deportment 
are  at  once  careless,  remiss,  self-satisfied,  and  haughty  : — and 
there  is  Intellectual  Prowess,  with  a  pale  cheek  and  serene 
brow,  leading  in  chains  Truth,  her  beautiful  and  modest  captive. 
The  one  makes  her  salutatfon  with  a  discourse  of  ease,  pleas- 
ure, freedom,  and  domestic  tranquillity  ;  or,  if  she  invite  to  la- 
bor, it  is  labor  in  the  busy  and  beaten  tract,  with  assurance  of 
the  complacent  regards  of  parents,  friends,  and  of  those  with 
whom  we  associate.  The  promise  also  may  be  upon  her  lip  of 
the  huzzas  of  the  multitude,  of  the  smile  of  kings,  and  the  mu- 
nificent rewards  of  senates.  The  other  does  not  venture  to 
hold  forth  any  of  these  allurements  ;  she  does  not  conceal  from 
him  w^hom  she  addresses  the  impediments,  the  disappointments, 
the  ignorance  and  prejudice  which  her  follow^sr  will  have  to  en- 
counter, if  devoted  when  duty  calls,  to  active  life  ;  and  if  to 
contemplative,  she  lays  nakedly  before  him,  a  scheme  of  solita- 
ry and  unremitting  labor,  a  life  of  entire  neglect  perhaps,  or 
assuredly  a  life  exposed  to  scorn,  insult,  persecution,  and  ha- 
tred ;  but  cheered  by  encouragement  from  a  grateful  few,  by 
applauding  conscience,  and  by  a  prophetic  anticipation,  perhaps, 
of  fame — a  late,  though  lasting  consequence.  Of  these  two, 
each  in  this  manner  soliciting  you  to  become  her  adherent,  you 
doubt  not  w^hich  to  prefer, — but  oh  !  the  thought  of  moment  is 
not  preference,  but  the  degree  of  preference  ;  the  passionate 
and  pure  choice,  the  inward  sense  of  absolute  and  unchangea- 
ble devotion. 

I  spoke  of  a  few  simple  questions — the  question  involved  in 
this  deliberation  is  simple ;  but  at  the  same  time  ii  is  high  and 


350 

awful :  and  I  would  gladly  know  whether  an  answer  can  be  re- 
turned satisfactory  to  the  mind. — We  will  for  a  moment  suppose 
that  it  cannot;  that  there  is  a  startling  and  a  hesitation. — Are 
we  the)i  to  despond  ?  to  retire  from  all   contest  ?  and  to  recon- 
cile ourselves  at  once  to  cares  without  a  generous  hope,  and  to 
efforts  in  whicli  there  is  no  more  moral  life  than   that  which  is 
found  in  the  business  and   labors  of  the  unfavored  and  unaspi- 
ring many  ?     No — but   if   the    inquiry    have   not   been  on  just 
grounds  satisfactorily  answered,  we   may  refer   confidently  our 
youth  to  that  nature  of  which  he  deems  himself  an  enthusias- 
tic follower,  and  one  who  wishes  to  continue   no   less   faithful 
and  enthusiastic. — We  would  tell  him  that  there  are  paths  which 
he  has  not  trodden  ;  recesses  which  he  has  not  penetrated,  that 
there  is  beauty  which  he  has  not  seen,  a   pathos  which   he  has 
not   felt — a   sublimity   to   which   he   hath    not  been  raised.     If 
he  have  trembled  because   there  has   occasionally  taken  place 
in  him  a  lapse  of  which  he  is  conscious  ;  if  he  foresee  open  or 
secret  attacks,  which  he  has  had  intimations  that  he  will  neither 
be  strong  enough  to  resist,   nor  watchful   enough  to  elude,  let 
him  not  hastily  ascribe  this  weakness,  this  deficiency,  and  the 
painful  apprehensions  accompanying  them,  in  any  degree  to  the 
virtues  or  noble  qualities   with  which  youth  by  nature    is  fur- 
nished ;  but  let  him  first  be  assured,  before  he  looks  about  for 
the  means  of  attaining  the  insight,  the  discriminating  powers, 
and  the  confirmed  wisdom  of  manhood,   that  his  soul  has  more 
to  demand  of  the  appropriate  excellencies  of  youth,  than  youth 
has  yet  supplied  t(-  it; — that  the  evil  under  which   he  labors  is 
not  a  superabundance  of  the   instincts  and  the  animating  spirit 
of  that  age,  but  a  falling   short,  or  a  failure. — But  what  can  he 
gain  from  this  admonition  ?  he  cannot  recall  past  time  ;  he  can- 
not begin   his  journey  afresh  ;  he    cannot  untwist  the   links  by 
which,  in  no  undelightful  harmony,  images  and  sentiments  are 
wedded  in  his  mind.     Granted   that  the   sacred  light  of  child- 
hood is  and  must  be  for  him  no  more  than  a  remembrance.  He 
may,  notwithstanding,  be  remanded  to  nature  ;  and  with  trust- 
worth}^  hopes  ;  founded  less  upon  his  sentient  than  upon  his  in- 
tellectual  being — to  nature,   as   leading   on   insensibly  to   the 
society  of  reason  ;  but  to  reason  and   will,  as  leading   back  to 
to  the  wisdom  of  nature.    A  re-union,  in  this  order  accomplish- 
ed, will  bring  reformation   and   timely  support  ;  and   the  two 
powers   of  reason   and   nature,  thus  reciprocally  teacher  and 


351 

taught,  may  advance  together  in  a  track  to  where   there   is  no 
limit. 

We  have  been  discoursing  (by  implication  at  least)  of  in- 
fancy, childhood,  boyhood,  and  youth,  of  pleasures  lying  upon 
the  unfolding  intellect  plenteously  as  morning  dew-drops — of 
knowledge  inhaled  insensibly  like  the  fragrance — of  disposi- 
tions stealing  into  the  spirit  like  music  from  unknown  quarters 
— of  images  uncalled  for  and  rising  up  like  exhaLitions — of 
hopes  plucked  like  beautiful  wild  flowers  from  the  ruined 
tombs  that  border  the  highways  of  antiquity,  to  make  a  garland 
for  a  living  forehead  : — in  a  word,  we  have  been  treating  of  na- 
ture as  a  teacher  of  truth  through  joy  and  through  gladness, 
and  as  a  creatress  of  the  faculties  by  a  process  of  smoothness 
and  delight.  We  have  made  no  m.ention  of  fear,  shame,  sor- 
row, nor  of  ungovernable  and  vexing  thoughts ;  because,  al- 
though these  have  been  and  have  done  mighty  service,  they 
are  overlooked  in  that  stage  of  life  when  youth  is  passing  in- 
to manhood — overlooked,  or  forgotten.  We  now  apply  for 
succor  which  we  need,  to  a  faculty  that  works  after  a  different 
course  :  that  faculty  is  Reason  :  she  gives  more  spontaneously, 
but  she  seeks  for  more  ;  she  works  by  thought,  through  feeling; 
yet  in  thoughts  she  begins  and   ends. 

A  familiar  incident  may  elucidate  this  contrast  in  the  opera- 
tions of  nature,  may  render  plain  the  manner  in  which  a  process 
of  intellectual  improvements,  the  reverse  of  that  which  nature 
pursues  is  by  reason  introduced  :  There  never  perhaps  existed 
a  school-boy  who,  having  when  lie  retired  to  rest,  carelessly 
blown  out  his  candle,  and  having  chanced  to  notice,  as  he  lay 
upon  his  bed  in  the  ensuing  daikness,  the  sullen  light  which 
had  survived  the  extinguished  flame,  did  not,  at  some  time  or 
other,  watch  that  light  as  if  his  mind  were  bound  to  it  by  a 
spell.  It  fades  and  revives — gathers  to  a  point — seems  as  if  it 
would  go  out  in  a  moment — again  recovers  its  strength,  nay 
becomes  brighter  than  before  :  it  continues  to  shine  with  an 
endurance,  which  in  its  apparent  weakness  is  a  mystery — it 
protracts  its  existence  so  long,  clinging  to  the  power  which 
supports  it,  that  the  observer,  who  had  laid  down  in  his  bed  so 
easy-minded,  becomes  sad  and  melancholy :  his  sympathies 
are  touched — it  is  to  him  an  inlim.ation  and  an  image  of  depart- 
ing human  life, — the  thought  comes  nearer  to  him — it  is  the 
life  of  a  venerated  parent,  of  a  beloved  brother  or  sister,  or  of 


352 

an  aged  domestic  ;  who  are  gone  to  the  grave,  or  whose  desti- 
ny it  soon  may  be  thus  to  linger,  thus   to  hang   upon    the   last 
point  of  mortal  existence,  thus  finally  to  depart  and  be  seen  no 
more.     This  is  nature  teaching  seriously  and  sweetly  through 
the  affections — melting  the  heart,  and,  through  that  instinct  of 
tenderness,  developing   the    understanding. — In   this   instance 
the  object  of  solicitude  is  the  bodily  life  of  another.     Let  us  ac- 
company this  same  boy  to  that  period  between  youth  and  man- 
hood, when  a  solicitude  may  be  awakened  for  the  moral  life  of 
himself. — Are   there  any  powers   by  which,  beginning  with  a 
sense  of  inward  decay  that  affects  not  however  the  natural  life, 
he  could  call  to    mind  the  same   image  and  hang  over  it  with 
an  equal  interest  as  a  visible   type  of  his  own  perishing  spir- 
it ? — Oh  !  surely,  if  the   being  of  the  individual  be   under  his 
own  care — if  it  be  his   first  care — if  duty  begin   from  the  point 
of  accountableness  to  our  conscience,  and  through  that,  to  God 
and  human  nature  ; — if  without  such  primary  sense  of  duty,  all 
secondary  care  of  teacher,  of  friend,  or    parent,   must  be  base- 
less and  fruitless  ;  if,  lastly,   the  motions  of  the  soul  transcend 
in  worth  those  of  the  animal  functions,  nay  give  to  them  their 
sole  value  ;  then  truly  are  there   such   powers  :  and   the  image 
of  the  dying  taper   may  be  recalled  and  contemplated,  though 
with  no  sadness  in  the  nerves,   no  disposition  to  tears,  no  un- 
conquerable sighs,  yet  with  a  melancholy  in  the   soul,  a  sink- 
ing inward  into  ourselves   from  thought  to   thought,  a   steady 
remonstrance,  and  a  high  resolve. — Let  then  the  youth  go  back, 
as  occasion  will  permit,  to  nature  and  to  solitude,  thus  admon- 
ished by  reason,  and  relying  upon  this  newly  acquired  support. 
A  world  of  fresh  sensations  will   gradually   open   upon  him  as 
his  mind  puts  off  its  infirmities,"  and  as  instead  of  being  pro- 
pelled restlessly  towards  others  in  admiration,  or  too  hasty  love, 
he  makes  it  his  prime    business  to   understand    himself.     New 
sensations,  I  affirm,  will  be  opened  out — pure,    and  sanctioned 
by  that   reason    which  is   their   original  author  ;   and   precious 
feelings  of  disinterested,  that   is   self-disregarding  joy  and  love 
may  be  regenerated  and  restored  : — and,  in  this  sense,  he  may 
be  said  to  measure  back  the  track  of  life  he  has  trod. 

In  such  disposition  of  mind  let  the  youth  return  to  the  visi- 
ble universe  :  and  to  conversation  with  ancient  books  ;  and  to 
those,  if  sifch  there  be,  which  in  the  present  day  breathe  the 
ancient  spirit :    and  let  him  feed    upon  that   beauty  which   un- 


353 

folds  itself,  not  to  his  eye  as  it  sees  carelessly  the  things  which 
cannot  possibly  go  unseen,  and  are  remembered  or  not  as  acci- 
dent shall  decide,  but  to  the  thinking  mind  ;  which  searches, 
discovers,  and  treasures  up, — infusing  by  meditation  into  the 
objects  with  which  it  converses  an  intellectual  life  ;  whereby 
they  remain  planted  in  the  memory,  now,  and  for  ever.  Hith- 
erto the  youth,  I  suppose,  has  been  content  for  the  raostp  art  to 
look  at  his  own  mind,  after  the  manner  in  which  he  ranges 
along  the  stars  in  the  firmament  with  naked  unaided  sight: 
let  him  now  apply  the  telescope  of  art — to  call  the  invisible 
stars  out  of  their  hiding  places;  and  let  him  endeavor  to  look 
through  the  system  of  his  being,  with  the  organ  of  reason ;  sum- 
moned to  penetrate,  as  far  as  it  has  power,  in  discovery  of  the 
impelling  forces  and  the  governing  laws. 

These  expectations  are  not  immoderate  :  they  demand  no- 
thing more  than  the  perception  of  a  few  plain  truths ;  namely, 
that  knowledge  efficacious  for  the  production  of  virtue  is  the 
ultimate  end  of  all  effort,  the  sole  dispenser  of  complacency 
and  repose.  A  perception  also  is  implied  of  the  inherent  su- 
periority of  contemplation  to  action.  The  Friend  does  not 
in  this  contradict  his  own  words,  where  he  has  said  heretofore, 
tliat  "doubtless  it  is  nobler  to  act  than  to  think."  In  those  words, 
it  was  his  purpose  to  censure  that  barren  contemplation,  which 
rests  satisfied  with  itself  in  cases  where  the  thoughts  are  of  such 
quality  that  they  may  be,  and  ought  to  be  embodied  in  action. 
But  he  speaks  now  of  the  general  superiority  of  thought  to  ac- 
tion ; — as  proceeding  and  governing  all  action  that  moves  to 
salutary  purposes  ;  and,  secondly,  as  leading  to  elevation,  the 
absolute  possession  of  the  individual  mind,  and  to  a  consis- 
tency or  harmony  of  the  being  within  itself,  which  no  outward 
agency  can  reach  to  disturb  or  to  impair : — and  lastly,  as  pro- 
ducing works  of  pure  science  ;  or  of  the  combined  faculties  of 
imagination,  feeling,  and  reason  ; — works  which,  both  from 
their  independence  in  their  origin  upon  accident,  their  nature, 
their  duration,  and  the  wide  spread  of  their  influence,  are  enti- 
tled rightly  to  take  place  of  the  noblest  and  most  beneficent 
deeds  of  heroes,  statesmen,  legislators,  or  warriors. 

Yet,  beginning  from  the  perception  of  this  established  supe- 
riority, we  do   not  suppose  that  the  youth,  whom  we  wish  to 
guide  and  encourage,  is  to  be   insensible  to  those  influences  of 
wealth,  or  rank,  or  station,  by  which  the  bulk   of  mankind  are 
45 


354 

swayed.  Our  eyes  have  not  been  fixed  upon  virtue  which  lies 
apart  from  human  nature,  or  transcends  it.  In  fact  there  is  no 
such  virtue.  Vv'e  neither  suppose  nor  wish  him  to  undervalue 
or  slight  these  distinctions  as  modes  of  power,  things  that  may 
enable  him  to  be  more  useful  to  his  contemporaries  ;  nor  as 
gratifications  that  may  confer  dignity  upon  his  living  person  ; 
and,  through  him,  upon  those  who  love  him  ;  nor  as  they  may 
connect  his  name,  through  a  family  to  be  founded  by  his  suc- 
cess, in  a  closer  chain  of  gratitude  with  some  portion  of  poste- 
rity, who  shall  speak  of  him,  as  among  their  ancestry,  with  a 
more  tender  interest  than  the  mere  general  bond  of  patriotism  or 
humanity  would  supply.  We  suppose  no  indifference  to,  much 
less  a  contempt  of,  these  rewards;  but  let  them  have  their  due 
place  ;  let  it  be  ascertained,  when  the  soul  is  searched  into,  that 
they  are  only  an  auxiliary  motive  to  exertion,  never  the  princi- 
pal or  originating  force.  If  this  be  too  much  to  expect  from  a 
youth  who,  I  take  for  granted,  possesses  no  ordinary  endowments, 
and  whom  circumstances  with  respect  to  the  more  dangerous 
passions  have  favored,  then,  indeed,  must  the  noble  spirit  of 
the  country  be  wasted  away  :  then  would  our  institutions  be 
deplorable  ;  and  the  education  prevalent  among  us  utterly  vile 
and  debasing. 

But  my  Correspondent,  who  drew  forth  these  thoughts,  has 
said  rightly,  that  the  character  of  the  age  may  not  without  in- 
justice be  thus  branded :  he  will  not  deny  that,  without  speak- 
ing of  other  countries,  there  is  in  these  islands,  in  the  depart- 
ments of  natural  philosophy,  of  mechanic  ingenuity,  in  the  ge- 
neral activities  of  the  country,  and  in  the  particular  excellence 
of  individual  minds,  in  high  stations  civil  or  military,  enough  to 
excite  admiration  and  love  in  the  sober-minded,  and  more  than 
enough  to  intoxicate  the  youthful  and  inexperienced. — I  will 
compare,  then,  an  aspiring  youth,  leaving  the  schools  in  which 
he  has  been  disciplined,  and  preparing  to  bear  a  part  in  the  con- 
cerns of  the  world,  I  will  compare  him  in  this  season  of  eager 
admiration,  to  a  newly-invested  knight  appearing  with  his  blank 
unsignalized  shield,  upon  some  day  of  solemn  tournament,  at 
the  Court  of  the  Fairy-queen,  as  that  sovereignty  was  concei- 
ved to  exist  by  the  moral  and  imaginative  genius  of  our  divine 
Spenser.  He  does  not  himself  immediately  enter  the  lists  as  a 
combatant,  but  he  looks  round  him  with  a  beating  heart :  daz- 
zled by  the  gorgeous  pageantry,  the  banners,  the  impresses, 
the  ladies  of  overcoming  beauty,  the  persons  of  the  knights — 


355 

now  first  seen  by  him,  the  fame  of  whose  actions  is  carried  by 
the  traveller,  like  merchandize,  through  the  v/orld  ;  and  re- 
sounded upon  the  harp  of  the  minstrel. — But  I  am  not  at  liberty 
to  make  this  comparison.  If  a  youth  were  to  begin  his  career 
in  such  an  assemblage,  with  such  examples  to  guide  and  to  ani- 
mate, it  will  be  pleaded,  there  should  be  no  cause  for  appre- 
hension :  he  could  not  falter,  he  could  not  be  misled.  But  ours, 
is  notwithstanding  its  manifold  excellencies,  a  degenerate  age: 
and  recreant  knights  are  among  us  far  outnumbering  the  true. 
A  false  Gloriana  in  these  days  imposes  worthless  services,  which 
they  who  perform  them,  in  their  blindness,  know  not  to  be  such ; 
and  which  are  recompenced  by  rewards  as  worthless — yet  ea- 
gerly grasped  at,  as  if  they  were  the  immortal  guerdon  of  vir- 
tue. 

I  have  in  this   declaration  insensibly  overstepped  the  limits 
which  I  had  determined   not  to  pass  ;  let   me  be  forgiven  :  for 
it  is  hope    which  hath   carried  me    forward.     In  such  a  mixed 
assemblage  as  our  age   presents,   v.ith  its  genuine  m.erit  and  its 
large  overbalance  of  alloy,  I  may   boldly  ask  into  what  errors, 
either   with  respect  to  person  or  thing,  could  a  young  man  fall, 
who  had  sincerely  entered  upon  the  course  of  moral  discipline 
which   has  been   recommended,  and  to  which  the  condition  of 
youth,  it  has  been  proved,  is  favorable  ?  His  opinions  could  no 
where  deceive   him  beyond  the   point  to  which,  after  a  season, 
he   would   find  that  it   was  salutary  for  him  to  have  been  de- 
ceived.    For,    as    that    man    cannot    set    a    right    value    upon 
health  who  has  never  known  sickness,  nor  feel  the  blessing  of 
ease  who  has  been   through  his  life  a  stranger  to  pain,  so  can 
there  be  no  confirmed  and  passionate  love  of  truth  for  him  who 
has  not  experienced   the   hoUowness  of  error. — Range  against 
each  other  as  advocates,  oppose  as  combatants,  two  several  in- 
tellects, each  strenously  asserting  doctrines  which  he  sincerely 
believes ;  but  the  one  contending  for  the  worth   and  beauty 
of  that   garment   which  the  other  has  outgrov/n  and  cast  away. 
Mark  the  superiority,  the  ease,  the  dignity,  on  the  side  of  the 
more  advanced  mind,  how  he  overlooks  his  subject,  commands 
it  from   centre  to  circumference,   and   hath   the  same  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  tenets  which  his  adversary,  with  impetuous 
zeal,  but  in  confusion   also,   and  thrown  off  his  guard  at  every 
turn  of  the  argument,  is  laboring  to  maintain  !     If  it  be  a  ques- 
tion of  the   fine   arts   (poetry  for  instance)  the  riper  mind  not 


356  ' 

only  sees  that  his  opponent  is  deceived  ;  but,  what  is  of  far 
more  importance,  sees  how  he  is  deceived.  The  imagination 
stands  before  him  with  all  its  imperfections  laid  open  ;  as  duped 
by  shews,  enslaved  by  words,  corrupted  by  mistaken  delicacy 
and  false  refinenient, — as  not  having  even  attended  with  care 
to  the  reports  of  the  senses,  and  therefore  deficient  grossly  in 
the  rudiments  of  her  own  power.  He  has  noted  how,  as  a 
supposed  necessary  condition.^  the  understanding  sleeps  in  or- 
der that  the  fancy  may  dream.  Studied  in  the  history  of  socie- 
ty and  versed  in  the  secret  law^s  of  thought,  he  can  pass  regu- 
lary  through  all  the  gradations,  can  pierce  infallibly  all  the  wind- 
ings, which  false  taste  through  ages  has  pursued — from  the  very 
time  when  first,  through  inexperience,  heedlessness,  or  aflecta- 
tion,  she  took  her  departure  from  the  side  of  Truth,  her  origin- 
al parent. Can  a   disputant  thus  accoutered  be    withstood.'' 

— to  wdiom,  further,  every  movement  in  the  thoughts  of  his 
antagonist  is  revealed  by  the  light  of  his  own  experience  ;  who, 
therefore,  sympathises  with  weakness  gently,  and  wins  his  way 
by  forbearance  ;  and  hath,  when  needful,  an  irresistible  power 
of  onset, — arising  from  gratitude  to  the  truth  which  he  vindi- 
cates, not  merely  as  a  positive  good  for  mankind,  but  as  his  own 
especial  rescue  and  redemption. 

I  might  here  conclude  :  but  my  Correspondent  towards  the 
close  of  his  letter,  has  wa-itten  so  feelingly  upon  the  advanta- 
ges to  be  derived,  in  his  estimation,  from  a  living  instructor, 
that  I  must  not  leave  this  part  of  the  subject  w itliout  a  word  of 
direct  notice.  T'he  Friead  cited,  some  time  ago,  a  passage  from 
the  prose  works  of  JMilton,  eloquently  describing  the  manner 
in  which  good  and  evil  grow  up  together  in  the  field  of  the 
world  almost  inseparably ;  and  insisting,  consequently,  upon 
the  knowledge  and  survey  of  vice  as  necessary  to  the  constitu- 
ting of  human  virtue,  and  the  scanning  of  error  to  the  confirma- 
tion of  Truth. 

If  this  be  so,  and  I  have  been  reasoning  to  the  same  effect 
in  the  preceding  paragraph,  the  fact,  and  the  thoughts  which 
it  may  suggest,  will,  if  rightly  applied,  tend  to  moderate  an 
anxiety  for  the  guidance  of  a  more  experienced  or  superior 
mind.  The  advantage,  wdiere  it  is  possessed,  is  far  from  be- 
ing an  absolute  good  :  nay,  such  a  preceptor,  ever  at  hand, 
might  prove  an  oppression  not  to  be  thrown  off,  and  a  fatal 
hinderance.     Grant  that  in  the  general  tenor  of  his  intercourse 


357 

with  his  pupil  he  is  forbearing  and  circumspect,  inasmuch  as 
he  is  rich  in  that  knowledge  (above  all  other  necessary  for  a 
teacher)  which  cannot  exist  without  a  liveliness  of  memory, 
preserving  for  him  an  unbroken  image  of  the  winding,  excur- 
sive, and  often  retrograde  course,  along  which  his  own  intel- 
lect has  passed.  Grant  that,  furnished  with  these  distinct  re- 
membrances, he  wishes  that  the  mind  of  his  pupil  should  be 
free  to  luxuriate  in  the  enjoyments,  loves,  and  admirations  ap- 
propriated to  its  age  ;  that  he  is  not  in  haste  to  kill  what  he 
knows  will  in  due  time  die  of  itself;  or  be  transuiuted,  and  put 
on  a  nobler  form  and  higher  faculties  otherwise  unattainable. 
In  a  word,  that  the  teacher  is  governed  habitually  by  the  wis- 
dom of  patience  waiting  with  pleasure.  Yet  perceiving  how^ 
much  the  outward  help  of  art  can  facilitate  the  progress  of  na- 
ture, he  may  be  betrayed  into  many  unnecessary  or  pernicious 
mistakes  where  he  deen)S  his  interference  warranted  by  sub- 
stantial experience.  And  in  spite  of  all  his  caution,  remarks 
may  drop  insensibly  from  him  which  shall  wither  in  the  mind 
of  his  pupil  a  generous  sympathy,  destroy  a  sentim-ent  of  appro- 
bation or  dislike,  not  merely  innocent  but  salutary;  and  for 
the  experienced  disciple  how  many  pleasures  may  thus  be  cut 
off,  what  joy,  what  admiration  and  what  love  !  while  in  their 
stead  are  introduced  into  tlie  ingenuous  mind  misgivings,  a 
mistrust  of  its  own  evidence,  dispositions  to  afl'ect  to  feel  where 
there  can  be  no  real  feeling,  indecisive  judgments,  a  super- 
structure of  opinions  that  has  no  base  to  support  it,  and  words, 
uttered  by  rote  with  the  impertinence  of  a  parrot  or  a  mocking- 
bird, yet  which  may  not  be  listened  to  with  the  same  indiffe- 
rence, as  they  cannot  be  heard  without  some  feeling  of  moral 
disapprobation. 

These  results,  I  contend,  whatever  may  be  the  benefit  to  be 
derived  from  such  an  enlightened  Teacher,  are  in  their  degree 
inevitable.  And  by  this  process,  humility  and  docile  disposi- 
tions may  exist  towards  the  Master,  endued  as  he  is  with  the 
power  which  personal  presence  confers  ;  but  at  the  same  time 
they  will  be  liable  to  over-step  their  due  bounds,  and  to  dege- 
nerate into  passiveness  and  prostration  of  mind.  This  towards 
him  !  while,  with  respect  to  other  living  men,  nay  even  to  the 
mighty  spirits  of  past  times,  there  may  be  associated  w^ith  such 
weakness  a  want  of  modesty  and  humility.  Insensibly  may 
steal  in  presumption  and  a  habit  of  sitting  in  judgment  in  cases 


358 

where  no  sentiment  ought  to  have  existed  but  diffidence  or  ve- 
neration. Such  virtues  are  the  sacred  attributes  of  Youth;  its 
appropiiate  calling  is  not  to  distinguish  in  the  fear  of  being  de- 
ceived or  degraded,  not  to  analyze  with  scrupulous  minuteness, 
but  to  accumulate  in  genial  confidence  ;  its  instinct,  its  safety, 
its  benefit,  its  glory,  is  to  love,  to  admire,  to  feel,  and  to  labor. 
Nature  has  irrevocably  decreed,  that  our  prime  dependence  in 
all  stages  of  life  after  Infancy  and  Childhood  have  been  passed 
through  (nor  do  I  know  that  this  latter  ought  to  be  excepted) 
must  be  upon  our  own  minds  ;  and  that  the  way  to  knowledge 
shall  be  long,  difficult,  winding,  and  oftentimes  returning  upon 
itself. 

What  has  been  said  is  a  mere  sketch  ;  and  that  only  of  a  part 
of  the  interesting  country  into  which  we  have  been  led  :  but 
my  Correspondent  will  be  able  to  enter  the  paths  that  have 
been  pointed  out.  Should  he  do  this  and  advance  steadily  for 
a  while,  he  needs  not  fear  any  deviations  from  the  truth  which 
will  be  finally  injurious  to  him.  He  will  not  long  have  his  ad- 
miration fixed  upon  unworthy  objects  ;  he  will  neither  be  clog- 
:ged  nor  drawn  aside  by  the  love  of  friends  or  kindred,  betray- 
ing his  understanding  through  his  affections  ;  he  will  neither  be 
bowed  down  by  conventional  arrangements  of  manners  produ- 
cing too  often  a  lifeless  decency  :  nor  will  the  rock  of  his  spirit 
wear  away  in  the  endless  beating  of  the  waves  of  the  world  : 
iieither  will  that  portion  of  his  own  time,  which  he  must  surren- 
der to  labors  by  which  his  livelihood  is  to  be  earned  or  his  social 
•duties  performed,  be  unprofitable  to  himself  indirectly,  while  it 
is  directly  useful  to  others  :  for  that  time  has  been  primarily 
surrendered  through  an  act  of  obedience  to  a  moral  law  estab- 
lished by  himself,  and  therefore  he  moves  then  also  along  the 
orbit  of  perfect  liberty. 

Let  it  be  remembered,  that  the  advice  requested  does  not 
relate  to  the  government  of  the  more  dangerous  passions,  or 
to  the  fundamental  principles  of  right  and  wrong  as  acknow- 
ledged by  the  universal  conscience  of  mankind.  I  may  there- 
fore assure  my  youthful  Correspondent,  if  he  will  endeavor  to 
look  into  himself  in  the  manner  which  I  have  exhorted  him  to 
do,  that  in  him  the  wish  will  be  realized,  to  him  in  due  time 
the  prayer  granted,  which  was  uttered  by  that  living  Teacher 
of  whom  he  speaks  with  gratitude  as  a  benefactor,  when,  in 
his  character  of  a  philosophical  Poet,  having  thought  of  Mora- 


359 

lity  a8  implying  in  its  essence  voluntary  obedience,  and  produ- 
cing the  effect  of  order,  he  transfers  in  the  transport  of  imagi- 
nation, the  law  of  moral  to  physical  natures,  and  having  con- 
templated, through  the  medium  of  that  order,  all  modes  of  ex- 
istence as  subservient  to  one  spirit,  concludes  his  address  ta 
the  power  of  Duty  in  the  following  words  : 

To  humbler  functions,  awful  Power ! 

I  call  thee  :  I  myself  commend 

Unto  thy  guidance  from  this  hour  ; 

Oh,  let  my  weakness  have  an  end ! 

Give  unto  me,  made  lowly  wise, 

The  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  ; 

The  confidence  of  reason  give  ! 

And  in  the  light  of  Truth  thy  Bondman  lei  me  live  ! 

w.  w. 


THE    FRIEKD. 


SECTION  THE  SECOND. 


ON    THE 


GROUNDS 


MORALS    AND    RELIGION, 


DISCIPLINE  OF  THE  MIND  REQUISITE  FOR  A  TRUE  UNDER- 
STANDING OF   THE  SAME. 


46 


I  know,  tho  seeming  and  self-pleasing  wisdom  of  our  times  consists  much 
in  cavOling  and  unjustly  carping  at  all  things  that  see  light,  and  that  there 
are  many  who  earnestly  hunt  after  the  publicke  fame  of  Learning  and  Judg- 
ment by  this  easily  trod  and  despicable  path,  which,  notwithstanding,  they 
tread  with  as  much  confidence  as  folly :  for  that,  ofltimes,  which  they  vainly 
and  unjustly  brand  with  opprobi'ie,  outlives  their  fate,  and  flourisheth  when 
it  is  forgot  that  ever  any  such,  as  they,  had  Being. — Dedication  to  Lord  Herbert 
of  Ambrose  Parcifs  Works  by  Tlwmas  Johnson,  the  Translator,  1634. 


E  N  S  A  Y    I . 


We  cannot  but  look  ui)  with  reverence  to  the  advanced  natures  of  the  natu- 
ralists and  moralists  in  highest  repute  amongst  us:  and  wish  they  had 
been  heightened  by  a  more  noble  ])rincip]o,  which  had  crowned  all  their 
various  sciences  with  the  priiicijjal  science,  and  in  their  brave  strayings 
after  truth  helpt  them  to  better  fortune  than  only  to  meet  with  her  hand- 
maids, and  kept  them  from  the  fate  of  [Jlysses,  who  wandering  through  the 
shades  met  all  the  ghosts,  yet  coidd  not  see  the  queen. 

/.  i?.  (JoHX  Hall?)  his  Motion  to  the  Parliament  of  E7ig- 
land'f concerning  the  Advancement  of  Learning. 


The  preceding  section  had  for  its  express  object  the  princi- 
ples of  our  duty  as  citizens,  or  morality  as  applied  to  politics. 
According  to  his  scheme  there  remained  for  the  friend  first, 
to  treat  of  the  principles  of  morality  generally,  and  then  on 
those  of  religion.  But  since  the  commencement  of  this  edi- 
tion, the  question  has  repeatedly  arisen  in  my  mind,  whether 
morality  can  be  said  to  have  any  principle  distinguishable  from 
religion,  or  religion  any  substance  divisible  from  morality  .''  Or 
should  I  attempt  to  distinguish  them  by  their  objects,  so  that 
morality  were  the  religion  which  we  owe  to  things  and  persons 
of  this  life,  and  religion  our  morality  toward  God  and  the  per- 
manent concerns  of  our  own  souls,  and  those  of  our  brethren  : 
yet  it  would  be  evident,  that  the  latter  must  involve  the  for- 
mer, while  any  pretence  to  the  former  without  the  latter  would 
be  as  bold  a  mockery  as,  if  having  withheld  an  estate  from  the 
rightful  owner,  we  should  seek  to  appease  our  conscience  by  the 
plea,  that  we  had  not  failed  to  bestow  alms  on  him  in  his  beg- 
gary. It  was  never  my  purpose,  and  it  does  not  appear  to  be 
the  want  of  the  age,  to  bring  together  the  rules  and  induce- 
ments of  worldly  prudence.     But  to  substitute   these  for  the 


364 

laws  of  reason  and  conscience,  or  even  to  confound  them  un- 
der one  name,  is  a  prejudice,  say  rather  a  profanation,  which  I 
became  more  and  more  rehictant  to  flatter  by  even  an  appear- 
ance of  assent,  though  it  were  only  in  a  point  of  form  and  tech- 
nical arrangement. 

At  a  time,  when  my  thoughts  were  thus  employed,  I  met  with 
a  volume  of  old  tracts,  published  during  the  interval  from  the 
captivity  of  Charles  the  First  to  the  restoration  of  his  son. 
Since  my  earliest  manhood  it  had  been  among  my  fondest  re- 
grets, that  a  more  direct  and  frequent  reference  had  not  been 
made  by  our  historians  to  the  books,  pamphlets,  and  flying  sheets 
of  that  momentous  period,  during  which  all  the  possible  forms 
of  truth  and  error  (the  latter  being  themselves  for  the  greater 
part  caricatures  of  truth)  bubbled  up  on  the  surface  of  the  pub- 
lic mind,  as  in  the  ferment  of  a  chaos.  It  would  be  diSicultto 
conceive  a  notion  or  a  fancy,  iu  politics,  ethics,  theology,  or 
even  in  physics  and  physiology,  which  had  not  been  anticipated 
by  the  men  of  that  age  :  in  this  as  in  most  other  respects  sharply 
contrasted  with  the  products  of  the  French  revolution,  which 
was  scarcely  more  characterized  by  its  sanguinary  and  sensual 
abominations  than  (to  borrow  the  words  of  an  eminent  living 
poet)  by 

A  dreary  want  at  once  of  books  and  men. 

The  parliament's  army  was  not  wholly  composed  of  mere  fana- 
tics. There  was  no  mean  proportion  of  enthusiasts :  and  that 
enthusiasm  must  have  been  of  no  ordinary  grandeur,  which 
could  draw  from  a  common  soldier,  in  an  address  to  his  com- 
rades, such  a  dissuasive  from  acting  in  "  the  cruel  spirit  of  fear  !" 
such  words  and  such  sentiments,  as  are  contained  in  the  following 
extract  which  I  would  fain  rescue  from  oblivion,*  both  for  the 
honor  of  our  fore-fathers,  and  in  proof  of  the  intense  difference 
between  the  republicans  of  that  period,  and  the  democrats,  or 
rather  demagogues,  of  the  present.  "  I  judge  it  ten  times  more 
honorable  for  a  single  person,  in    witnessing  a  truth  to   oppose 


*  Tlie  more  so  hocaiiso  every  year  consumes  its  quota.  The  late  Sir  Wil- 
fred Lawson's  predecessor,  from  some  })ique  or  other,  left  a  large  and  unique 
collection,  of  the  i)ami)hlets''published  from  the  commencement  of  the  Parlia- 
ment war  to  the  restoration,  to  his  butlt>r,  and  it  supplied  the  chandlers'  and 
druggists'  shops  of  Penrith  and  Kendal  for  many  years. 


365 

the  world  in  its  power,  wisdom  and  authority,  this  standing  tn 
its  full  strength,  and  he  singly  and  nakedly,  than  fighting  many 
battles  by  force  of  arms,  and  gaining  them  all.  I  have  no  life 
but  truth  :  and  if  truth  be  advanced  by  my  suffering,  then  my 
life  also.  If  truth  live,  I  live  :  if  justice  live,  I  live  :  and  these 
cannot  die,  but  by  any  man's  suffering  for  them  are  enlarged, 
enthroned.  Death  cannot  hurt  me.  I  sport  with  him,  am  above 
his  reach.  I  live  an  immortal  life.  What  we  have  within,  that 
only  can  we  see  without.  I  cannot  see  death :  and  he  that  hath 
not  this  freedom  is  a  slave.  He  is  in  the  arms  of  that,  the  phan- 
tom of  which  he  beholdeth  and  seemeth  to  himself  to  flee  from. 
Thus,  you  see  that  the  king  hath  a  will  to  redeem  his  present 
loss.  You  see  it  by  means  of  the  lust  after  power  in  your  own 
hearts.  For  my  part  I  condemn  his  unlawful  seeking  after  it. 
I  condemn  his  falsehood  and  indirectness  therein.  But  if  he 
should  not  endeavor  the  restoring  of  the  kingliness  to  the 
realm,  and  the  dignity  of  its  kings,  he  were  false  to  his  trust, 
false  to  the  majesty  of  God  that  he  is  intrusted  with.  The 
desire  of  recovering  his  loss  is  justifiable.  Yea,  I  should 
condemn  him  as  unbelieving  and  pusillanimous,  if  he  should 
not  hope  for  it.  But  here  is  his  misery  and  yours  too  at  pre- 
sent, that  ye  are  unbelieving  and  pusillanimous,  and  are,  both 
alike,  pursuing  things  of  hope  in  the  spirit  of  fear.  Thus 
you  condemn  the  parliament  for  acknowledging  the  king's  pow- 
er so  far  as  to  seek  to  him  by  a  treaty;  while  by  taking  such 
pains  against  him  you  manifest  your  own  belief  that  he  hath  a 
great  power — which  is  a  wonder,  that  a  prince  despoiled  of  all 
his  authority,  naked,  a  prisoner,  destitute  of  all  friends  and 
helps,  wholly  at  the  disposal  of  others,  tied  and  bound  too  with 
all  obligations  that  a  parliament  can  imagine  to  hold  him,  should 
yet  be  such  a  terror  to  you,  and  fright  you  into  such  a  large  re- 
monstrance, and  such  perilous  proceedings  to  save  yourselves 
from  him.  Either  there  is  some  strange  povv'er  in  him,  or  you 
are  full  of  fear  that  are  so  affecied  with  a  shadow. 

But  as  you  give  testimony  to  his  power,  so  you  take  a  course 
to  advance  it ;  for  there  is  nothing  that  hath  any  spark  of  God 
in  it,  but  the  more  it  is  suppressed,  the  more  it  rises.  If  you 
did  indeed  believe,  that  the  original  of  power  were  in  the  peo- 
ple, you  would  believe  likewise  that  the  concessions  extorted 
from  the  king  would  rest  with  you,  as  doubtless,  such  of  them 
as  in  righteousness  ought  to  have  been  given,  would  do  ;  but 
that  your  violent  courses  disturb  the  natural  order  of  things, 


3156 

on  which  thej  still  tend  to  their  centre  :  and  so  far  from  being  the 
way  to  secure  what  we  have  got,  they  are  the  way  to  ]ose  them, 
and  (for  a  time  at  least)  to  set  up  princes  in  a  higher  form  than 
ever.  For  all  things  by  force  compelled  from  their  nature  will 
fly  back  v/ith  the  greater  earnestness  on  the  removal  of  that 
force  :  and  this,  in  the  present  case,  must  soon  weary  itself  out, 
and  hath  no  less  an  enemy  in  its  own  satiety  than  in  the  disap- 
pointment of  the  people. 

Again  :  you  speak  of  the  king's  reputation — and  do  not  con- 
sider that  the  more  you  crush  him,  the  sweeter  the  fragrance 
that  comes  from  him.  While  he  suffers,  the  spirit  of  God  and 
glory  rests  upon  him.  There  is  a  glory  and  a  freshness  spark- 
ling in  him  by  suffering,  an  excellency  that  was  hidden,  and 
which  you  have  drawn  out.  And  naturally  men  are  ready  to 
pity  sufferers.  ¥/hen  nothing  will  gain  me,  affliction  will.  I 
confess  Lis  sufferings  make  me  a  royalist,  who  never  cared  for 
him.  He  that  doth  and  can  suffer  shall  have  my  heart:  you 
had  it  while  you  suffered.  But  now  your  severe  punishment  of 
him  for  his  abuses  in  government,  and  your  own  usurpations, 
will  not  only  win  the  hearts  of  the  people  to  the  oppressed  suf- 
fering king,  but  provoke  them  to  rage  against  you,  as  having 
robbed  them  of  the  interest  which  they  had  in  his  royalty.  For 
the  king  is  in  the  people,  and  the  people  in  the  king.  The 
king's  being  is  not  solitary,  but  as  he  is  in  union  with  his  people, 
who  are  his  strength  in  which  he  lives ;  and  the  people's  be^-ng 
is  not  naked,  but  an  interest  in  the  greatness  and  wisdom  of  the 
king  who  is  their  honor  which  lives  in  them.  And  though  you 
will  disjoin  yourselves  from  kings,  God  will  not,  neither  will  I. 
God  is  King  of  kings,  kings'  and  princes'  God,  as  well  a  peo- 
ple's, theirs  as  well  as  ours,  and  theirs  eminently  (as  the  speech 
enforces,  God  of  Israel,  that  is,.  Israel's  God  above  all  other 
nations :  and  so  king  of  kings,)  by  a  near  and  especial  kindred 
and  communion.  Kingline^s  agrees  with  all  Christians,  who 
are  indeed  Christians.  For  they  are  themselves  of  a  royal  na- 
ture, made  kings  with  Christ,  and  cannot  but  be  friends  to  it, 
being  of  kin  to  it :  and  if  there  were  not  kings  to  honor,  they 
would  want  one  of  the  appointed  objects  to  bestow  that  fulness 
of  honor  which  is  in  their  breasts.  A  virtue  would  lie  unem- 
ployed within  them,  and  in  prison,  pining  and  restlefs  from  the 
want  of  its  outv/ard  correlative.  It  is  a  bastard  religion,  that 
is  inconsistent  with  the  majesty  and  the  greatness  of  the  most 


367 

splendid  monarch.  Such  spirits  are  strangers  from  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  Either  they  know  not  the  glory  in  which 
God  lives:  or  they  are  of  narrow  minds  that  are  corrupt  them- 
selves, and  not  able  to  bear  greatness,  and  so  think  that  God 
will  not,  or  cannot,  qualify  men  for  such  high  places  with  cor- 
respondent and  proportionable  power  and  goodness.  Is  it  not 
enough  to  have  removed  the  malignant  bodies  v.-hich  eclipsed 
the  royal  sun,  and  mixed  their  bad  influences  with  his?  And 
would  you  extinguish  the  sun  itself  to  secure  yourselves  ?  O 
this  is  the  spirit  of  bondage  to  fear,  and  not  of  love  and  a 
sound  mind.  To  assume  the  office  and  the  name  of  champions 
for  the  common  interest,  and  of  Christ's  soldiers,  and  yet  to 
act  for  self  safety  is  so  poor  and  mean  a  thing  that  it  must 
produce  most  vile  and  absurd  actions,  the  scorn  of  the  old  pa- 
gans, but  for  Christians  who  in  all  things  are  to  love  their 
neighbor  as  themselves,  and  God  above  both,  it  is  of  all  affec- 
tions the  unworthiest.  Let  me  be  a  fool  and  boast,  if  so  I  may 
shew  you,  while  it  is  yet  time,  a  little  of  that  rest  and  security 
which  I  and  those  of  the  same  spirit  enjoy,  and  which  you  have 
turned  your  backs  upon  ;  self,  like  a  banished  thing,  v/andering 
in  strange  ways.  First,  then,  I  fear  no  party,  cr  interest,  for  I 
love  all,  I  am  reconciled  to  all,  and  therein  I  find  all  reconciled 
to  me.  I  have  enmity  to  none  but  the  son  of  perdition.  It  is 
enmity  begets  insecurity :  and  Vv^hile  men  live  in  the  flesh,  and 
in  enmity  to  any  party,  or  interest,  in  a  private,  divided,  and 
self  good,  there  will  be,  there  cannot  but  be,  perpetual  wars  : 
except  that  one  particular  should  quite  ruin  all  other  parts  and 
live  alone,  which  the  universal  must  not,  will  not  sufier.  For 
to  admit  a  part  to  devour  and  absorb  the  others,  were  to  de- 
stroy the  whole,  which  is  God's  presence  therein  ;  and  such  a 
mind  in  any  part  doth  not  only  fight  with  another  part,  but 
against  the  whole.  Every  faction  of  men,  therefore,  striving 
to  make  themselves  absolute,  and  to  owe  their  safety  to  their 
strength,  and  not  to  their  sympathy,  do  directly  war  against 
God  who  is  love,  peace,  and  a  general  good,  gives  being  to  all 
and  cherishes  all,  and,  therefore,  can  have  neither  peace  or  se- 
curity. But  we  being  enlarged  into  the  largeness  of  God,  and 
comprehending  all  things  in  our  bosoms  by  the  divine  spirit,  are 
at  rest  with  all,  and  delight  in  all ;  for  we  know  nothing  but 
what  is,  in  its  essence,  in  our  own  hearts.  Kings,  nobles,  are 
much  beloved  of  us,  because  they  are  in  us,  of  us,  one  with  ui9, 


368 

we  as   Christians  being  kings  and  lords  by   the   anointing  of 
God." 

But  such  sentiments,  it  will  be  said,  are  the  flights  of  Spe- 
culative Minds.  Be  it  so  !  Yet  to  soar  is  nobler  than  to 
creep.  We  attach,  likewise,  some  value  to  a  thing  on  the  mere 
score  of  its  rarity  ;  and  Speculative  Minds,  alas !  have  been 
rare,  though  not  equally  rare,  in  all  ages  and  countries  of  civi- 
lized man.  With  us  the  very  word  seems  to  have  abdicated  its 
legitimate  sense.  Instead  of  designating  a  mind  so  constituted 
and  disciplined  as  to  find  in  its  own  wants  and  instincts  an 
interest  in  truths  for  their  truth's  sake,  it  is  now  used  to 
signify  a  practical  schemer,  one  who  ventures  beyond  the 
bounds  of  experience  in  the  formation  and  adoption  of  new 
ways  and  means  for  the  attainment  of  wealth,  or  power.  To 
possess  the  end  in  the  means,  as  it  is  essential  to  morality  in 
the  moral  world,  and  the  contra-distinction  of  goodness  from 
mere  prudence,  so  is  it,  in  the  intellectual  world,  the  moral  con- 
stituent of  genius,  and  that  hy  which  true  genius  is  contra-dis- 
tinguished from  mere  talent.  (See  the  postscript  at  the  end  of 
this  essay.) 

The  man  of  talent,  who  is,  if  not  exclusively,  yet  chiefly  and 
characteristically  a  man  of  talent,  seeks  and  values  the  means 
wholly  in  relation  to  some  object  not  therein  contained.  His 
means  may  be  peculiar  ;  but  his  ends  are  conventional,  and  com- 
mon to  the  mass  of  mankind.  Alas  !  in  both  cases  alike,  in  that 
of  genius,  as  well  as  in  that  of  talent,  it  too  often  happens,  that 
this  diversity  in  the  "  moraW  of  their  several  intellects,  ex- 
tends to  the  feelings  and  impulses  properly  and  directly  morale 
to  their  dispositions,  habits,  and  maxims  of  conduct.  It  char- 
acterizes not  the  intellect  alone,  but  the  whole  man.  The  one 
substitutes  prudence  for  virtue,  legality  in  act  and  demeanor, 
for  warmth  and  purity  of  heart :  and  too  frequently  becomes 
jealous,  envious,  a  coveter  of  other  men's  good  gifts,  and  a  de- 
tractor from  their  merits,  open  or  secretly,  as  his  fears  or  his 
passions  chance  to  preponderate.* 


*  A.ccoi-ding  to  the  principles  of  Spurzhcim's  Cranioscopy  (a  scheme,  the 
indicative  or  gnomonic  parts  of  wliich  have  a  stronger  sui)port  in  facts  than 
the  theory  in  reason  or  common  sense)  we  should  find  in  the  skull  of  such  an 
individual  the  organs  of  circu-Dispection  and  appropriation  disproportionately 
lai^e  and  prominent  compared  with  those  of  ideality  and  henevoleucc.     It  is 


369 

The  other,  on  the  contrary,  might  remind  us  of  the  zealots 
for  legitimate  succession  after  the  decease  of  our  sixth  Edward, 
who  not  content  with  having  placed  the  rightful  sovereign  on 
the  throne,  would  ^\•reak  their  vengeance  on  "the  meek  usurp- 
er," who  had  been  seated  on  it  by  a  will  against  which  she  had 
herself  been  the  first  to  remonstrate.  For  with  that  unhealth- 
ful  preponderance  of  impulse  over  motive,  which,  though  no 
part  of  genius,  is  too  often  its  accompaniment,  he  lives  in  con- 
tinued hostility  to  prudence,  or  banishes  it  altogether;  and 
thus  deprives  virtue  of  her  guide  and  guardian,  her  prime 
functionary,  yea,  the  very  organ  of  her  outward  life.  Hence  a 
benevolence  that  squanders  its  shafts  and  still  misses  its  aim,  or 
like  the  charmed  bullet  that,  levelled  at  the  wolf  brings  down 
the  shepherd  !    Hence  desultoriness,  extremes,  exhaustion 

And  thereof  comes  in  the  end  despondency  and  madness ! 

Wordsworth. 

Let  it  not  be  forgotten,  however,  that  these  evils  are  the  dis- 
ease of  the  man^  while  the  records  of  biography  furnish  ample 
proof,  that  genius,  in  the  higher  degree,  acts  as  a  preservative 
against  them  :  more  remarkably,  and  in  more  frequent  instan- 
ces, when  the  imagination  and  preconstructive  power  have  ta- 
ken a  scientific  or  philosophic  direction  :  as  in  Plato,  indeed  in 
almost  all  the  first-rate  philosophers — in  Kepler,  Milton,  Boyle, 
Newton,  Leibnitz,  and  Berkley.  At  all  events,  a  certain  num- 
ber of  speculative  minds  is  necessary  to  a  cultivated  state  of 
society,  as  a  condition  of  its  progressiveness  :  and  nature  her- 
self has  provided  against  any  too  great  increase  in  this  class  of 
her  productions.  As  the  gifted  masters  of  the  divining  Rod  to 
the  ordinary  miners,  and  as  the  miners  of  a  country  to  the 
husbandmen,  mechanics,  and  artisans,  such  is  the  proportion  of 
the  Trismegisti,  to  the  sum  total  of  speculative  minds,  even  of 
those,  I  mean,  that  are  truly  such ;  and  of  these  again,  to  the 
remaining  mass  of  useful  laborers  r.nd  "  operatives''^  in  science, 
literature,  and  the  learned  professions. 


certain  that  the  organ  of  appropriation,  or  (more  correctly)  the  part  of  the 
skull  asserted  to  be  significant  of  that  tendency  and  cciVespondent  to  the  or- 
gan, is  strikingly  large  in  a  cast  of  the  head  of  the  famous  Dr.  Dodd  ;  and  it 
was  found  of  equal  dimension  in  a  literary  man,  whose  skull  puzzled  the 
cranioscopist  more  than  it  did  me.  Nature,  it  should  seem,  makes  no  dis- 
tinction between  manuscripts  and  money-drafts,  though  the  law  does. 
47 


370 

This  train  of  thought  brings  to  ray  recollection  a  conversation 
with  a  friend  of  my  youth,  an  old  man  of  humble  estate ;  but 
in  whose  society  I  had  great  pleasure.  The  reader  will,  I 
hope,  pardon  me  if  I  embrace  the  opportunity  of  recalling  old 
affections,  afforded  me  by  its  fitness  to  illustrate  the  present 
subject.  A  sedate  man  he  was,  and  had  been  a  miner  from  his 
boyhood.  Well  did  he  represent  the  old  "  long  syne,^^  when 
every  trade  was  a  mystery  and  had  its  own  guardian  saint ; 
when  the  sense  of  self-importance  was  gratified  at  home^  and 
Ambition  had  a  hundred  several  lotteries,  in  one  or  other  of 
which  every  freeman  had  a  ticket,  and  the  only  blanks  were 
drawn  by  Sloth,  Intemperance,  or  inevitable  Calamity ;  when 
the  detail  of  each  art  and  trade  (like  the  oracles  of  the  proph- 
ets, interpretable  in  a  double  sense)  was  ennobled  in  the  eyes 
of  its  professors  by  being  spiritually  improved  into  symbols  and 
mementos  of  all  doctrines  and  all  duties,  and  every  craftsman 
had,  as  it  were,  two  versions  of  his  Bible,  one  in  the  common 
language  of  the  country,  another  in  the  acts,  objects,  and  pro- 
ducts of  his  own  particular  craft.  There  are  not  many  things 
in  our  elder  popular  literature,  more  interesting  to  me  than 
those  contests,  or  Amoibean  eclogues,  between  workmen  for 
the  superior  worth  and  dignity  of  their  several  callings,  which 
used  to  be  sold  at  our  village  fairs,  in  stitched  sheets,  neither 
untitled  nor  undecorated,  though  without  the  superfluous  costs 
of  a  separate  title-page. 

With  this  good  old  miner  I  was  once  walking  through  a  corn- 
field at  harvest-time,  when  that  part  of  the  conversation,  to 
which  I  have  alluded,  took  place.  At  times,  said  I,  when  you 
were  delving  in  the  bowels  of  the  arid  mountain  or  foodless 
rock,  it  must  have  occurred  to  your  mind  as  a  pleasant  thought, 
that  in  providing  the  scythe  and  the  sword  you  were  virtually 
reaping  the  harvest  and  protecting  the  harvest-man.  Ah!  he 
replied  with  a  sigh,  that  gave  a  fuller  meaning  to  his  smile,  out 
of  all  earthly  things  there  come  both  good  and  evil :  the  good 
through  God,  and  the  evil  from  the  evil  heart.  From  the  look 
and  weight  of  the  ore  I  learnt  to  make  a  near  guess,  how  much 
iron  it  would  yield  ;  but  neither  its  heft,  nor  its  hues,  nor  its 
breakage  would  prophecy  to  me,  whether  it  was  to  become  a 
thievish  pick-lock,  a  murderer's  dirk,  a  slave's  collar,  or  the 
woodman's  axe,  the  feeding  ploughshare,  the  defender's  sword, 
or  the  mechanic's  tool.     So  perhaps,  my  young  friend  !    I  have 


371 

cause  to  be  thankful,  that  the  opening  upon  a  fresh  vein  gives 
me  a  delight  so  full  as  to  allow  no  room  for  other  fancies,  and 
leaves  behind  it  a  hope  and  a  love  that  support  me  in  my  labor, 
even  for  the  labor's  sake. 

As,  according  to  the  eldest  philosophy,  life  being  in  its  own 
nature  aeriform,  is  under  the  necessity  of  renewing  itself  by 
inspiring  the  connatural,  and  therefore  assimilable  air,  so  is  it 
with  the  intelligential  soul  with  respect  to  truth :  for  it  is  itself 
of  the  nature  of  truth.  r£vo;j.ivr)  sx  s.-wpiaj:,  xa!  &ia/j.a  S^rov,  cpCdiv 
ep^siv  9(Xo&sa,aova  u'TTocpj^si.  Plotinus.  But  the  occasion  and  brief 
history  of  the  decline  of  true  speculative  philosophy,  with  the 
origin  of  the  separation  of  ethics  from  religion,  I  must  defer  to 
the  following  number. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

As  I  see  many  good,  and  can  anticipate  no  ill  consequences, 
in  the  attempt  to  give  distinct  and  appropriate  meanings  to 
words  hitherto  synonymous,  or  at  least  of  indefinite  and  fluctu- 
ating application,  if  only  the  proposed  sense  be  not  passed  up- 
on the  reader  as  the  existing  and  authorized  one,  I  shall  make 
no  other  apology  for  the  use  of  the  word.  Talent,  in  this  pre- 
ceding Essay  and  elsewhere  in  my  works  than  by  annexing  the 
following  explanation.  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  consider- 
ing the  qualities  of  intellect,  the  comparative  eminence  in 
which  characterizes  individuals  and  even  countries,  under  four 
kinds — Genius,  Talent,  Sense,  and  Cleverness.  The  first 
I  use  in  the  sense  of  most  general  acceptance,  as  the  faculty 
w^hich  adds  to  the  existing  stock  of  power,  and  knowledge  by 
new  views,  new  combinations,  &c.  In  short,  I  define  Genius, 
as  originality  in  intellectual  construction  :  the  moral  accompa- 
niment, and  actuating  principle  of  which  consists,  perhaps,  in 
the  carrying  on  of  the  freshness  and  feelings  of  childhood  into 
the  powers  of  manhood. 

By  Talent,  on  the  other  hand,  I  mean  the  comparative  fa- 
cility of  acquiring,  arranging,  and  applying  the  stock  furnished 
by  others  and  already  existing  in  books  or  other  conservato- 
ries of  intellect. 

By  Sense  I  understand  that  just  balance  of  the  faculties  which 
is  to  the  judgment  what  health  is  to  the  body.     The  mind  seems 


372 

to  act  en  masse,  by  a  synthetic  rather  than  an  analytic  process  : 
even  as  the  outward  senses,  from  which  the  metaphor  is  taken, 
perceive  immediately,  each  as  it  were  by  a  peculiar  tact 
or  intuition,  without  any  consciousness  of  the  mechanism  by 
which  the  perception  is  realized.  This  is  often  exemplified 
in  well-bred,  unaffected,  and  innocent  women.  I  know  a  lady, 
on  whose  judgment,  from  constant  experience  of  its  rectitude, 
I  could  rely  almost  as  on  an  oracle.  But  when  she  has  some- 
times proceeded  to  a  detail  of  the  grounds  and  reasons  for  her 
opinion — then,  led  by  similar  experience  I  have  been  tempted 
to  interrupt  her  with — "  I  will  take  your  advice,"  or,  "  I  shall 
act  on  your  opinion  :  for  I  am  sure,  you  are  in  the  right.  But 
as  to  the  jo^s  and  becauses,  leave  them  to  me  to  find  out." 
The  general  accompaniment  of  Sense  is  a  disposition  to  avoid 
extremes,  whether  in  theory  or  in  practice,  with  a  desire  to 
remain  in  sympathy  with  the  general  mind  of  the  age  or  coun- 
try, and  a  feeling  of  the  necessity  and  utility  of  compromise. 
If  Genius  be  the  initiative,  and  Talent  the  administrative, 
Sense  is  the  conservative^  branch,  in  the  intellectual  re- 
public. 

By  Cltcveeness  (which  I  dare  not  with  Dr.  Johnson  call  a 
loiv  word,  while  there  is  a  sense  to  be  expressed  which  it  alone 
expresses)  I  mean  a  comparative  readiness  in  the  invention  and 
use  of  moans,  for  the  realizing  of  objects  and  ideas — often  of 
such  ideas,  which  the  man  of  genius  only  could  have  origina- 
ted, and  which  the  clever  man  perhaps  neither  fully  compre- 
hends nor  adequately  appreciates,  even  at  the  moment  that  he 
is  prompting  or  executing  the  machinery  of  their  accomplish- 
ment. In  short.  Cleverness  is  a  sort  of  genius  for  instrumen- 
tality. It  is  the  brain  in  the  hand.  In  literature  Cleverness  is 
more  frequently  accompanied  by  wit,  Genius  and  Sense  by  hu- 
mor. 

If  I  take  the  three  great  countries  of  Europe,  in  respect  of 
intellectual  character,  namely,  Germany,  England,  and  France, 
I  should  characterize  them  thus — premising  only  that  in  the 
first  line  of  the  two  first  tables  I  mean  to  imply  that  Genius, 
rare  in  all  countries,  is  equal  in  both  of  these,  the  instances 
equally  numerous — and  characteristic  therefore  not  in  relation 
to  each  other,  but  in  relation  to  the  third  country.  The  other 
qualities  are  more  general  characteristics. 


373 

GEmMjVY. 
Genius, 
Talent, 
Fancy. 

The  latter  chiefly  as   exhibited  in  wild  combination   and  in 
pomp  of  ornament.     N.  B.  Imagination  is  implied  in  Genius. 


E^GLA^YD. 
Genius, 

Sense, 
Humor. 


FRA^YCE. 
Cleverness, 
Talent, 
Wit. 
So  again  with  regard  to  the  forms  and  effects,   in  which  the 
qualities  manifest  themselves,  i.  e.  intellectually. 


GERMAjYY. 
Idea,  or  Law  anticipated,* 
Totality,! 
Distinctness. 


EXGLAXD. 
Law  discovered,:]: 
Selection, 
Clearness. 


*  This  as  co-ordinate  with  Genius  in  the  first  table,  applies  likewise  to  the 
few  only:  and  conjoined  with  the  two  following  qualities,  as  general  charac- 
teristics of  German  intellect,  includes  or  supposes,  as  its  consequences  and 
accompaniments  speculation,  system,  method  ;  which  in  a  somewhat  lower 
class  of  minds  appear  as  notionality  (or  a  predilection  for  noumena,  mundua 
intelligibilis,  as  contra-distinguished  from  phcEnomtna,  or  iramdus  sensibilis) 
scheme  ;  arrangement ;  orderliness. 

\  In  totality  I  imply  encyclopaedic  learning,  exhaustion  of  the  subjects  treat- 
ed of,  and  the  passion  for  completing  and  the  love  of  the  complete. 

\See  the  following  Essays  on  Method.  It  might  have  been  expressed — as  the 
contemplation  of  ideas  objectively,  as  existing  powers,  while  the  German  of 
equal  genius  is  predisposed  to  contemplate  law  suhjedively,  with  anticipation 
of  a  correspondent  in  nature. 


374 

FRAJVCE. 
Theory   invented, 
Particularity.* 
Palpability. 

Lastly,  we  might  exhibit  the  same  qualities  in  their  moral, 
religious,  and  political  manifestations  :  in  the  cosmopolitism  of 
Germany,  the  contemptuous  nationality  of  the  Englishman,  and 
the  ostentatious  and  boastful  nationality  of  the  Frenchman.  The 
craving  of  sympathy  marks  the  German  :  inward  pride  the  Eng- 
lishman :  vanity  the  Frenchman.  So  again,  enthusiasm,  vision- 
ariness  seems  the  tendency  of  the  German  :  zeal,  zealotry  of 
the  English  :  fanaticism  of  the  French.  But  the  thoughtful 
reader  will  find  these  and  many  other  characteristic'  points 
contained  in,  and  deducible  from  the  relations  in  which  the  mind 
of  the  three  countries  bears  to  Time. 

GEmiA:N'Y. 
Past  and  Future. 

E^GLAJ^D. 
Past  and  Present. 

FRAJVCE. 
The  Present. 

A  whimsical  friend  of  mine,  of  more  genius  than  discretion, 
characterizes  the  Scotchman  of  literature  (confining  his  remark, 
however,  to  the  period  since  the  Union)  as  a  dull  Frenchman 
and  a  superficial  German.  But  when  I  recollect  the  splendid  ex- 
ceptions of  Hume,  Robertson,  Smollett,  Reid,  Thomson  (if 

*  Tendency  to  individualize,  embody,  insulate,  ex.  gr.  the  vitreous  and  the 
resinous  fluids  instead  of  the  positive  and  negative  forces  of  the  power  of 
electricity.  Thus  too,  it  ^^■as  not  sufficient  that  oxygen  was  the  principal, 
and  with  one  exception,  the  only  then  known  acidifying  substance  ;  the  pow- 
er and  principle  of  acidification  must  be  embodied  and  as  it  were  impersona- 
ted and  hypostasizcd  in  this  gas.  Hence  the  idolism  of  the  French,  here  ex- 
pressed in  one  of  its  results,  viz.  palpability.  Ideas  are  here  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. I  had  almost  said,  that  Ideas  and  a  Parisian  Philosopher  are  incompa- 
tible terms,  since  the  latter  half,  I  mean,  of  the  reign  of  Lewis  XVI.  But 
even  the  Conceptions  of  a  Frenchman,  whatever  lie  admits  to  be  conceivable 
must  be  imageable,  and  the  imageable  must  be  fancied  tangible — the  non-appa- 
rcncy  of  either  or  both  being  accounted  for  by  the  disproportion  of  our  senses, 
not  by  the  nature  of  the  conceptions. 


375 

this  last  instance  be  not  objected  to  as  savoring  of  geographical 
pedantry,  that  truly  amiable  man,  and  genuine  poet  having  been 
born  but  a  few  furlongs  from  the  English  border,)  Dugald 
Stewart,  Burns,  Walter  Scott,  Hogg  and  Campbell — not 
to  mention  the  very  numerous  physicians  and  prominent  dis- 
senting ministers,  born  and  bred  beyond  the  Tweed — I  hesitate 
in  recording  so  wild  an  opinion,  which  derives  its  plausibility, 
chiefly  from  the  circumstance  so  honorable  to  our  northern  sis- 
ter, that  Scotchmen  generally  have  more,  and  a  more  learned, 
education  than  the  same  ranks  in  other  countries,  below  the 
first  class ;  but  in  part  likewise,  from  the  common  mistake  of 
confounding  the  general  character  of  an  emigrant,  whose  ob- 
jects are  in  one  place  and  his  best  affections  in  another,  with 
the  particular  character  of  a  Scotchman  :  to  which  we  may  add, 
perhaps,  the  clannish  spirit  of  provincial  literature,  fostered  un- 
doubtedly by  the  peculiar  relations  of  Scotland,  and  of  which 
therefore  its  metropolis  may  be  a  striking,  but  is  far  from  being 
a  solitary,  instance. 


ESSAY  II. 


The  road  downward. 

Heraclit.     Fragment. 


Amour  de  moi  meme  ;  mais  bien  calcule  :  was  the  motto 
and  maxim  of  a  French  philosopher.  Our  fancy  inspirited  by 
the  more  imaginative  powers  of  hope  and  fear  enables  us  to 
present  to  ourselves  the  future  as  the  present :  and  thence  to 
accept  a  scheme   of  self-love   for  a  system  of  morality.     And 


376 

doubtless,  an  enlightened  self-interest  would  recommend  the 
same  course  of  outward  conduct,  as  the  sense  of  duty  would 
do ;  even  though  the  motives  in  the  former  case  had  respect  to 
this  life  exclusively.  But  to  show  the  desirableness  of  an  ob- 
ject, or  the  contrary,  is  one  thing:  to  excite  the  desire,  to  con- 
stitute the  aversion,  is  another  :  the  one  being  to  the  other  as  a 
common  guide-post  to  the  "  chariot  instinct  with  spirit,"  which 
at  once  directs  and  conveys,  or  (to  use  a  more  trival  image)  as 
the  hand,  and  hour-plate,  or  at  the  utmost  the  regulator,  of  a 
watch  to  the  spring  and  wheel  work,  or  rather  to  the  whole 
watch.  Nay,  where  the  sufficiency  and  exclusive  validity  of 
the  former  are  adopted  as  the  maxim  (regula  maxima)  of  the 
moral  sense,  it  would  be  a  fairer  and  fuller  comparison  to  say, 
that  it  is  to  the  latter  as  the  dial  to  the  sun,  indicating  its  path 
by  intercepting  its  radiance. 

But  let  it  be  granted,  that  in  certain  individuals  from  a  hap- 
py evenness  of  nature,  formed  into  a  habit  by  the  strength  of 
education,  the  influence  of  example,  and  by  favorable  circum- 
stances in  general,  the  actions  diverging  from  self-love  as  their 
center  should  be  precisely  the  same  as  those  produced  from  the 
Christian  principle,  which  requires  of  us  that  we  should  place 
our  self  and  our  neighbor  at  an  equi-distance,  and  love  both 
alike  as  modes  in  which  we  realize  and  exhibit  the  love  of  God 
above  all :  wherein  would  the  difference  be  then?  I  answer 
boldly  :  even  in  that,  for  which  all  actions  have  their  whole 
worth  and  their  main  value — in  the  agents  themselves.  So 
much  indeed  is  this  of  the  very  substance  of  genuine  morality, 
that  wherever  the  latter  has  given  way  in  the  general  opinion 
to  a  scheme  of  ethics  founded  on  utility,  its  place  is  soon  chal- 
lenged by  the  spirit  of  honor.  Paley,  who  degrades  the  spir- 
it of  honor  into  a  mere  club-law  among  the  higher  classes  ori- 
ginating in  selfish  convenience,  and  enforced  by  the  penalty  of 
excommunication  from  the  society  which  habit  had  rendered 
indispensable  to  the  happiness  of  the  individuals,  has  miscon- 
strued it  not  less  than  Shaftsbury,  who  extols  it  as  the  noblest 
influence  of  noble  natures.  The  spirit  of  honor  is  more  in- 
indeed  than  a  mere  conventional  substitute  for  honesty  ;  but 
on  the  other  hand  instead  of  being  a  finer  form  of  moral  life,  it 
may  be  more  truly  described  as  the  shadow  or  ghost  of  virtue 
deceased.  For  to  take  the  word  in  a  sense,  which  no  man  of 
honor  would  acknowledge,  may  be  allowed  to  the  writer  of  sa- 


377 

tires,  but  not  to  the  moral  philosopher.  Honor  implies  a  rev- 
erence for  the  invisible  and  supersensual  in  our  nature,  and  so 
far  it  is  virtue  ;  but  it  is  a  virtue  that  neither  understands  it- 
self or  its  true  source,  and  therefore  often  unsubstantial,  not 
seldom  fantastic,  and  always  more  or  less  capricious.  Abstract 
the  notion  from  the  lives  of  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury,  or 
Henry  the  Fourth  of  France  :  and  then  compare  it  with  the  1 
Corinth,  xiii.  and  the  epistle  to  Philemon,  or  rather  with  the 
realization  of  this  fair  ideal  in  the  character  of  St.  Paul*  him- 
self. I  know  not  a  better  test.  Nor  can  I  think  of  any  inves- 
tigation, that  would  be  more  instructive  where  it  would  be  safe, 
but  none  likewise  of  greater  delicacy  from  the  probability  of 
misinterpretation,  than  a  history  of  the  rise  of  honor  in  the 
European  monarchies  as  connected  with  the  corruptions  of 
Christianity  ;  and  an  inquiry  into  the  specific  causes  of  the  in- 
efficacy  which  has  attended  the  combined  efforts  of  divines 
and  moralists  against  the  practice  and  obligation  of  duelling. 

Of  a  widely  different  character  from  this  moral  aipjcfj^,  yet  as  a 
derivative  from  the  same  root,  we  may  contemplate  the  heresies 
of  the  Gnostics  in  the  early  ages  of  the  church,  and  of  the  fa- 

*  This  lias  struck  the  better  class  even  of  infidels.  Collins,  one  of  the 
most  learned  of  our  English  Deists,  is  said  to  have  declared,  that  contradic- 
tory as  miracles  appeared  to  his  reason,  he  would  believe  in  them  notwith- 
standing, if  it  could  be  proved  to  him  that  St.  Paul  had  asserted  any  one  as 
having  been  worked  hy  himself  in  the  modern  sense  of  the  word,  miracle ; 
adding,  "  St.  Paid  was  so  perfect  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of  honor!"  When  I 
call  duelling,  and  similar  aberrations  of  honor,  a  moral  heresy;  I  refer  to  the 
force  of  the  Greek  'aiofatg  as  signifying  a  principle  or  opinion  taken  up  by 
THE  WILL  for  the  wiirs  sake,  as  a  proof  and  ]jledge  to  itself  of  its  own  power 
of  self-determination,  independent  of  all  other  motives.  In  the  gloomy  grat- 
ification derived  or  ajiticipated  from  the  exercise  of  this  aweful  power — the 
condition  of  all  moral  good  while  it  is  latent,  and  hidden,  as  it  were,  in  the 
center  ;  but  the  essential  cause  of  fiendish  guilt,  when'it  makes  itself  exist- 
ential and  peripheric — si  quando  in  cii-cumferentiam  erumpat:  (in  both  cases 
I  have  piirposehj  adopted  the  language  of  the  old  mystic  theosophers)—  I  find 
the  only  explanation  of  a  moral  phajnomenon  not  very  uncommon  in  the  last 
moments  of  condemned  felons — viz.  the  obstinate  denial,  not  of  the  main  guilt, 
which  might  be  accounted  for  by  ordinary  motives,  but  of  some  paiticular  act 
which  had  been  proved  beyond  all  possi!)ility  of  doubt,  and  attested  by  the 
criminal's  own  accomplices  and  fellow  suflTerers  in  their  last  confessions:  and 
this  too  an  act,  the  non-perpetration  of  which,  if  believed,  could  neither  mit- 
igate the  sentence  of  the  law,  nor  even  the  opinions  of  men  after  the  sen- 
tence had  been  carried  into  execution. 

48 


378 

mily  of  love,  with  other  forms  of  Antinomianism,   since  the 
Reformation  to  the  present  day.     But  lest  in  uttering  truth  I 
should  convey  falsehood  and  fall  myself  into  the  error  which  it 
is  my  object  to  expose,  it  will  be  requisite  to   distinguish  an 
apprehension  of  the  icliole  of  a  truth,  even  where  that  appre- 
hension is  dim  and  indistinct,  from  a  partial  perception  of  the 
same  rashly  assumed,  as  a  perception  of  the  whole.     The  first 
is  rendered  inevitable  in  many  things  for  many,  in  some  points 
for  all,  men  from  the  progressiveness  no  less  than  from  the  im- 
perfection of  humanity,  which   itself  dictates  and  enforces  the 
precept,    Believe    that   thou    mayest   understand.     The    most 
knowing  must  at  times  be   content  with  the  facit  of  a  sum  too 
complex  or  subtle  for  us  to  follow  nature  through  the  antece- 
dent process.     The  Greek  verb,  rfuvi'svai,  which  we  render  by 
the  word,  understand,  is  literally  the  same  as  our  own  idiomat- 
ic phrase,  to  go  along  with.     Hence  in  subjects  not  under  the 
cognizance  of  the  senses  wise  men  have  always  attached  a  high 
value  to  general  and  long-continued  assent,  as  a  presumption  of 
truth.     After  all  the  subtle  reasonings  and  fair  analogies  which 
logic  and  induction  could  supply  to  a  mighty  intellect,  it  is  yet 
on  this  ground  that  the  Socrates  of  Plato  mainly  rests  his  faith 
in  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  the  moral  Government  of 
the  universe.     It  had  been  held  by  all  nations  in  all  ages,  but 
with  deepest  conviction  by  the  best  and  wisest  men,  as  a  belief 
connatural  with  goodness  and  akin  to  prophecy.     The  same  ar- 
gument is  adopted  by  Cicero,  as  the  principal  ground  of  his  ad- 
herence  to   divination.     Gentem   quidem   nullam  video  neque 
tam  immanem  tamque  barbaram,  quae  non  significari  futura  et  a 
quibusdam  intelligi  prsedicique  posse  censeat.*     I   confess,   I 

*  (Translation) — I  find  indeed  no  people  or  nation,  however  civilized  and 
cultivated,  or  however  wild  and  barbarous,  but  have  deemed  that  there  are 
antecedent  signs  of  future  events,  and  some  men  ca])able  of  understanding 
and  predicting  them. 

I  am  tempted  to  add  a  passage  from  my  own  translation  of  Scliiller's 
Wallenstein,  the  more  so  that  the  work  has  been  long  ago  used  up,  as  "  wind- 
ing sheets  for  pilcJiards,'"  or  extant  only  by  (as  I  would  fain  flatter  myself)  the 
kind  partiality  of  the  trunk-makers :  though  with  cxce])tion  of  works  for 
which  i>ubhc  admiration  supersedes  or  includes  individual  commendations,  I 
scarce  remember  a  book  that  has  been  more  honored  by  the  exjuess  attesta- 
tions in  its  favor  of  eminent  and  even  of  ])opular  literati,  among  whom  I 
take  this  opportunity  of  expressing  my  acknowledgements  to  the  author  of 


379 

can  never  read  the  De  Divinatione  of  this  great  orator,  states- 
man, and  patriot,  without  feeling  myself  inclined  to  consider 
this  opinion  as  an  instance  of  the  second  class,  namely,  of 
fractional  truths  integrated  by  fancy,  passion,  accident,  and  that 
preponderance  of  the  positive  over  the  negative  in  the  memo- 
ry, which  makes  it  no  less  tenacious  of  coincidences  than  for- 
getful of  failures. 

Countess.     What?  dost  thou  not  believe,  that  oft  in  dreams 
A.  voice  of  warning  si)eaks  prophetic  to  us  ? 

Wallenstein.  I  will  not  doubt  that  there  have  been  such  voices; 
Yet  I  would  not  call  them 
Voices  of  ivarning,  that  announce  to  us 
Only  the  inevitable.     As  the  sun,  ' 

Ere  it  is  risen,  sometimes  paints  its  image 
In  the  atmosphere :   so  often  do  the  spirits 
Of  great  events  stride  on  before  events 
And  in  to-day  already  ivalks  to-morrow. 
That  which  we  read  of  the  Fourth  Henry's  death 
Did  ever  vex  and  haunt  me,  like  a  tale 
Of  my  own  future  destiny.     The  king 
Felt  in  his  breast  the  phantom  of  the  knife, 
Long  ere  RavaiUac  arm'd  himself  therewith. 
His  quiet  mind  forsook  him:  the  phantasma 
Started  him  in  his  Louvre,  chaced  him  forth 
Into  the  open  air.     Like  funeral  knells 
■  Sounded  that  coronation  festival ; 
And  still  with  boding  sense  he  heard  the  tread 
Of  those  feet,  that  even  then  were  seeking  him 
Throughout  the  streets  of  Paris. 

JFallenstein,  part  ii.  act  v.  scene  i. 

I  am  indeed  firmly  persuaded,  that  no  doctrine  was  ever 
widely  diffused,  among  various  nations  through  successive  ages, 

Waverly,  Guy  Mannering,  &c.  [low  (asked  Ulysses,  addressing  his  guar- 
dian goddess)  shall  I  be  able  to  recognize  Proteus,  in  the  swallow  that  skims 
round  our  houses  whom  I  have  been  accustomed  to  liehold  as  a  swan  of 
Phoebus,  measuring  his  movements  to  a  celestial  music  ?  In  both  alike,  she 
replied,  thou  canst  recognize  the  god. 

So  supported,  I  dare  avow  that  I  have  thought  my  translation  worthy  of  a 
more  favorable  reception  from  the  public  and  their  literary  guides  and  pur- 
veyors. But  when  I  recollect,  that  a  much  better  and  very  far  more  valua- 
ble work,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Carey's  incomparable  translation  of  Dante,  had  very 
nearly  met  with  tlie  same  fate,  I  lose  all  right,  and,  I  trust,  all  iiiclinaUon  to 
com])lain:  an  inchnation,  which  the  mere  sense  of  its  folly  and  uselessnesa 
will  not  always  suffice  to  preclude. 


380 

and  under  different  religions  (such,  for  instance,  as  the  tenets 
of  original  sin  and  of  redemption,  those  fundamental  articles  of 
every  known  religion  professing  to  have  been  revealed),  which 
is  not  founded  either  in  the  nature  of  things,  or  in  the  necessi- 
ties of  human  nature.     Nay,  the  more  strange  and  irreconcile- 
able  such  a  doctrine   may   appear  to    the   understanding,   the 
judgments  of  which  are  grounded  on  general  rules  abstracted 
from  the  world  of  the  senses,  the  stronger  is  the  presumption 
in  its  favor.     For  whatever  satirist   may  say,   or  sciolists  ima- 
gine, the  human    mind  has  no  predilection  for    absurdity.     I 
would  even  extend  the  principle   (proportionately  I  mean)  to 
sundry  tenets,  that  from  their  strangeness  or  dangerous  tenden- 
cy, appear  only  to  be  generally  reprobated,  as  eclipses  in  the 
belief  of  barbarous  tribes  are  to  be  frightened  away  by  noises 
and  execrations ;  but  which  rather  resemble  the  luminary  itself 
in  this  one  respect,  that  after  a  longer   or  shorter  interval   of 
occultation,  they  are  still  found  to  re-emerge.     It  is  these,  the 
re-appearance  of  vvliich   (nomine  tantum  mutato),  from  age  to 
age,  gives  to  ecclesiastical  history  a  deeper  interest  than  that  of 
romance  and  scarcely  less  vv'ild,  for  every  philosophic  mind.     I 
am  far  from   asserting  that   such   a  doctrine   (the  Antinomian, 
for  instance,  or  that  of  a  latent  mystical  sense  in  the  words  of 
Scripture,  according  to  Emanuel  Swedenborg)  shall  be  always 
the  best  possible,  or  not  a  distorted  and  dangerous,  as  well  as 
partial,    representation  of  the   truth,    on   which    it  is  founded. 
For  the  same  body  casts  strangely  different  shadows  in  different 
positions  and  different   degrees  of  light.     But  I  dare,  and  do, 
affirm  that  it  always  does  shadow  out  some  important  truth,  and 
from  it  derives  its   main   influence    over  the  faith  of  its  adher- 
ents, obscure   as  their  perception   of  this   truth   may  be,   and 
though  they  may  themselves  attribute  their  belief  to  the  super- 
natural gifts  of  the   founder,    or    the    miracles  by  which   his 
preaching  had  been  accredited.     See   Wesley^s  Journal.     But 
we  have  the  highest  possible  authority,  that  of  Scripture  itself, 
to  justify  us  in  putting  the  question:  Whether   miracles   can, 
of  themselves,  work  a  true  conviction  in  the  mind  .''     There  are 
spiritual  truths  which  must  derive  their   evidence  from  within, 
which  whoever  rejects,  "  neither  will  he  believe  though  a  man 
were  to  rise  from  the  dead"  to  confirm  them.     And  under  the 
Mosaic  law  a  miracle  in  attestation  of  a  false  doctrine  subjected 
the  miracle-worker  to  death  :  whether  really  or  only  seemingly 


381 

supernatural,  makes  no  difference  in  the  present  argument,  its 
power  of  convincing,  whatever  that  power  may  be,  whether 
great  or  small,  depending  on  the  fulness  of  the  belief  in  its 
miraculous  nature.  Est  quibus  esse  videtur.  Or  rather,  that  I 
may  express  the  same  position  in  a  form  less  likely  to  offend,  is 
not  a  true  efficient  conviction  of  a  moral  truth,  is  not  "the  cre- 
ating of  a  new  heart,"  which  collects  the  energies  of  a  man's 
whole  being  in  the  focus  of  the  conscience,  the  one  essential 
miracle,  the  same  and  of  the  same  evidence  to  the  ignorant  and 
learned,  which  no  superior  skill  can  counterfeit,  human  or  dse- 
moniacal  ?  Is  it  not  emphatically  that  leading  of  the  Father, 
without  which  no  man  can  come  to  Christ  ?  Is  it  not  that  im- 
plication of  doctrine  in  the  miracle,  and  of  miracle  in  the  doc- 
trine, which  is  the  bridge  of  communication  between  the  senses 
and  the  soul  ?  That  predisposing  warmth  that  renders  the  un- 
derstanding susceptible  of  the  specific  impression  from  the  his- 
toric, and  from  all  other  outward,  seals  of  testimony  ?  Is  not 
this  the  one  infallible  criterion  of  miracles,  by  which  a  man  can 
know  whether  they  be  of  God?  The  abhorrence  in  which  the 
most  savage  or  barbarous  tribes  hold  witchcraft,  in  which  how- 
ever their  belief  is  so  intense*  as  even  to  control  the  springs 
of  life, — is  not  this  abhorrence  of  witchcraft  under  so  full  a 
conviction  of  its  reality  a  proof,  how  little  of  divine,  how  little 
fitting  to  our  nature,  a  miracle  is,  when  insulated  from  spiritual 
truths,  and  disconnected  from  religion  as  its  end  ?  What  then  can 
we  think  of  a  theological  theory,  which  adopting  a  scheme  of 
prudential  legality,  common  to  it  with  "  the  sty  of  Epicurus" 
as  far  at  least  as  the  springs  of  moral  action  are  concerned, 
makes  its  whole  religion  consist  in  the  belief  of  miracles  !  As 
well  might  the  poor  African  prepare  for  himself  a  fetisch  by 
plucking  out  the  eyes  from  tlie  eagle  or  the  lynx,  and  enshri- 
ning the  same,  worship  in  them  the  power  of  vision.  As  the 
tenet  of  professed  christians  (I  speak  of  the  principle  not  of 
the  men,  whose  hearts  will  always  more  or  less  correct  the  er- 
rors of  their  understandings)  it  is  even  more  absurd,  and  the 
pretext  for  such  a  religion  more  inconsistent  than  the  religion 
itself.     For  they  profess  to  derive  from  it  their  whole   faith  in 


*  I  refei-  the  reader  to  Hearne'a  Travels  among  the  Copper  Indians,  and  to 
Bryan  Edwards's  account  of  the  Oby  in  the  West  Indies,  grounded  on  judicial 
doe«mentfl  and  personal  observation. 


383 

that  futurity,  which  if  they  had  not  previously  believed  on  the 
evidence  of  their  own  consciences,  of  Moses  and  the  Prophets, 
they  are  assured  by  the  great  Founder  and  Object  of  Christian- 
ity, that  neither  will  they  believe  it,  in  any  spiritual  and  profit- 
able sense,  though  a  man  should  rise  from  the  dead. 

For  myself,  I  cannot  resist  the  conviction,  built  on  particular 
and  general  history,  that  the  extravagances  of  Antinomianisra 
and  Solifidianism  are  little  more  than  the  counteractions  to  this 
Christian  paganism  :  the  play,  as  it  were,  of  antagonist  muscles. 
The  feelings  will  set  up  their  standard  against  the  understand- 
ing, whenever  the  understanding  has  renounced  its  allegiance  to 
the  reason  :  and  what  is  faith  but  the  personal  realization  of  the 
reason  by  its  union  with  the  will  ?  If  we  would  drive  out  the  de- 
mons of  fanaticism  from  the  people,  we  must  begin  by  exorcising 
the  spirit  of  Epicureanism  in  the  higher  ranks,  and  restore  to  their 
teachers  the  true  Christian  enthusiasm,*  the  vivifying  influences 
of  the  altar,  the  censer,  and  the  sacrifice.  They  must  neither  be 
ashamed  of,  nor  disposed  to  explain  away,  the  articles  of  preve- 
nientand  auxiliary  grace,  nor  the  necessity  of  being  born  again 
to  the  life  from  which  our  nature  had  become  apostate.  They 
must  administer  indeed  the  necessary  medicines  to  the  sick,  the 
motives  of  fear  as  well  as  of  hope  ;  but  they  must  not  withhold 
from  them  the  idea  of  health,  or  conceal  from  them  that  the 
medicines  for  the  sick  are  not  the  diet  of  the  healthy.  Nay, 
they  must  make  it  a  part  of  the  curative  process  to  induce  the 
patient,  on  the  first  symptoms  of  recovery,  to  look  forward  with 
prayer  and  aspiration  to  that  state,  in  which  perfect  love  shut- 
teth  out  fear.  Above  all,  they  must  not  seek  to  make  the 
mysteries  of  faith  what  the  world  calls  rational  by  theories  of 
original  sin  and  redemption  borrowed  analogically  from  the  im- 
perfection of  human  law-courts  and  the  coarse  contrivances  of 
state  expedience. 

Among  the  numerous  examples  with  which  I  might  enforce 
this  warning,  I  refer,  not  without  reluctance,  to  the  most  elo- 
quent, and  one  of  the  most  learned  of  our  divines  ;  a  rigorist, 
indeed,  concerning  the  authority  of  the  Church,  but  a  Latitudi- 
narian  in  the  articles  of  its  faith ;  who  stretched  the  latter  almost 

*  The  original  meaning  of  the  Greek,  Enthousiasmos,  is ;  the  influence 
of  the  divinity  such  as  was  supposed  to  take  possession  of  the  priest  during 
the  performance  of  the  services  at  the  altar. 


Mf 


38^ 

to  the  advanced  posts  of  Socinianism,  and  strained  the  former 
to  a  hazardous  conformity  with  the  assumptions  of  the  Roman 
hierarchy.     With  what  emotions   must  not  a  pious  mind  peruse 
such   passages  as  the    following  : — "  Death  reigned   upon  them 
whose  sins  could  not  be  so  imputed  as  Adam's  was  ;  but  although 
it  was  not  wholly  imputed  upon   their  own    account,  yet  it  was 
imputed  upon  their's  and  Adam's.     For  God  was  so  exaspera- 
ted with  mankind^   that  being  angry  he  would  still  continue 
that   punishment  to  lesser   sins  and    sinners,  which  he  had  first 
threatened  to  Adam  only.     The  case  is  this  ;  Jonathan  and  Mi- 
chael were  Saul's  children.    It  came  to  pass,  that  seven  of  Saul's 
issue  were  to  be  hanged  ;  all  equally  innocent — equally  culpa- 
ble.*    David  took  the  five  sons  of  Michael,  for  she  had  left  him 
unhandsomely.     Jonathan    was   his   friend,    and   therefore    he 
spared  his  son,  Mephibosheth.     Here  it   was   indifferent   as  to 
the   guilt   of  the    persons  (observe,  no  guilt  was  attached  to 
either  of  them)  whether  David  should  take  the  sons  of  Michael 
or  of  Jonathan  ;  but  it  is  likely  that,  as  upon  the  kindness  which 
David  had  to  Jonathan,  he  saved  his  son,  so  upon  the  just  pro- 
vocation of  Michael,  he  made  that  evil  to  fall  upon  them,  which, 
it  may  be,  they  should  not  have   suffered,  if  their  mother  had 
been  kind.  Adam  was  to  god,  as  MrcHAEL  to  David  !!!  (Tay- 
lor's Polem.    Tracts,  p.  711.)     And  this,  with  many  passages 
equally  gross,  occurs  in  a  refutation  of  the  doctrine  of  original 
sin,  on  the   ground  of  its  incongruity  with   reason,   and   its  in- 
compatibility   with    God's  justice  !     Exasperated   with    those 
whom  the  Bishop  has  elsewhere,  in  the  same  treatise,  declared 
to  have  been  "  innocent  and  most  unfortunate" — the  two  things 
that   most    conciliate   love   and  pity  !     Or,  if  they   did   not  re- 
main  innocent,  yet,  those   whose   abandonment  to  a  mere  na- 
ture,   while  they  Avere  subjected  to  a  law  above  nature,  he  af- 
firms to  be  the  irresistible  cause  that  they,  one  and  all  did  sin  ! 
— and  this  at  once  illustrated   and  justified  by  one  of  the  worst 
actions  of  an  imperfect  mortal  !     So  far  could  the  resolve  to 
coerce   all  doctrines   within  the  limits  of  reason  (i.  e.  the  indi- 
vidual's  power  of  comprehension)    and   the   prejudices  of  an 
Arminian    against  the  Calvinist  preachers,  carry  an  highly-gift- 

*  These  two  words  are  added  without  the  least  ground  in  scripture,  accord- 
ing to  which  (2  Samuel,  xxi.)  no  charge  was  laid  to  them  but  that  they  were 
the  children  of  Saul !  and  sacrificed  to  a  point  of  state  expedience. 


3et4 

ed  and  exemplarv  divine.  Let  us  be  on  our  guard,  lest  similar 
effects  should  resuJt  from  the  zeal,  however  well-grounded 
in  some  respects,  against  the  Church  Calvinists  of  our  davs. 
The  writer's  belief  is  perhaps,  equi-distant  from  that  of  both 
parties  the  Grotian  and  the  Genevan.  But,  confinins  my  re- 
mark exclusively  to  the  doctrines  and  the  practical  deductions 
from  them,  I  could  never  read  Bishop  TayloFs  Tract  on  the 
doctrine  and  practice  of  Repentance,  without  beins  tempted  to 
characterize  high  Calvinism  as  (comparatively ;  a  lamb  in  Wolfe's 
skin,  and  strict  Arminianism  as  approachins  to  the  reverse. 

Actuated  by  these  motives,  I  have  devoted  the  following  es- 
say to  a  brief  history  of  the  rise  and  occasion  of  the  Latitudin- 
arian  system  in  its  first  birth-place  in  Greece,  and  a  faithful  ex- 
hibition both  of  its  parentage  and  its  offspring.  The  reader  will 
find  it  sirictly  correspondent  to  the  motto  of  both  essays,  t  ic'-x 
jETTi. — the  wav  downwards. 


ESSAY    III. 

ox    THE     ORIGIN    A2fD    PKOGBXSS     OF    THE    SECT    OF     SOPHISTS    IX 

GR£i:C£. 


The  road  downwanL 

HxbjlCUT.   IVafrmfni. 


As  Pythasoras,  foS4  a.  c.)  declining  the  title  of  the  wise 
man,  is  said  to  have  first  named  himself  Philosopheb.  or  lo- 
ver of  wisdom,  so  Protagoras,  followed  by  Gorgias,  Prodicus, 
&c.  (444  A.  c.)  found  even  the  former  word  too  narrow  for  his 
oym  opinion  of  himself,  and  first  assumed  the  title  of  Sophist  : 


385 

this  word  originallr  signifying  one  who  professes  the  power  of 
making  others  wise,  a  wholesale  and  retail  dealer  in  wisdom — 
a  wisdom -monger,  in  the  same  sense  as  we  say,  an  iron-mon- 
ger. In  this  and  not  in  their  abuse  of  the  arts  of  reasoning, 
hare  Plato  and  Aristotle  placed  the  esseniicl  o(  the  sophistic 
character.  Their  sophisms  were  indeed  its  natural  products  and 
accompaniments,  but  must  vet  be  distinguished  from  it,  as  the 
fruits  from  the  tree.  'Eo-Trf^  r;^:,  JccfrT}j>c,  cbr^TiXr^  T?fi  ri  Tr; 
•l-C-^rrc  •jjxr^'.xrj-'-j. — a  Vender,  a  market-man.  in  moral  and  intellect- 
ual knowledges  fconnoissances — one  who  hires  himself  out 
or  puts  himself  up  at  auction,  as  a  carpenter  and  upholsterer  to 
the  heads  and  hearts  of  his  customers — such  are  the  phrases, 
by  which  Plato  at  once  describes  and  satyrizes  the  proper  so- 
phist. Nor  does  the  Stagyrite  fall  short  of  his  great  master 
and  rival  in  the  reprobation  of  these  professors  of  wisdom,  or 
differ  from  him  in  the  grounds  of  it.  He  too  gives  the  base- 
ness of  the  motives  joined  with  the  impudence  and  delusive  na- 
ture of  the  pretence  as  the  generic  character. 

Xext  to  this  pretence  of  selling  wisdom  and  eloquence,  they 
were  distinguished  by  their  itinerancy.  Athens  was,  indeed, 
their  sreat  emporium  and  place  of  rendezvous  :  but  by  no  means 
their  domicile.  Such  were  Protagoras.  Gorgias.  Prodicus,  Hip- 
pias,  Polus,  CallicleSj  Thrasymachus,  and  a  whole  host  of  so- 
phists minorum  gentium  :  and  though  many  of  the  tribe,  like 
the  Euthydemus  and  Dionysiodoras  so  dramatically  portrayed 
by  Plato,  were  mere  emty  disputants,  sleight-o/-word  jugslers, 
this  was  far  from  being  their  common  character.  Both  Plat« 
and  Aristotle  repeatedly  admit  the  brilliancy  of  their  talents 
and  the  extent  of  their  acquirements.  The  following  passage 
from  the  Timaeus  of  the  former  will  be  my  best  commentary 
as  well  as  authority.  "  The  race  of  sophists,  again,  I  acknow- 
ledge lor  men  of  no  common  powers,  and  of  eminent  skill  and 
experience  in  many  and  various  kinds  of  knowledge,  and  these 
too  not  seldom  truly  Hiir  and  ornamental  of  our  nature ;  but  I 
tear  that  somehow,  as  being  itinerants  from  city  to  city,  loose 
from  all  permanent  ties  of  house  and  home,  and  ever\"where 
aliens,  they  shoot  wide  of  the  proper  aim  of  man  whether 
as  philosopher  or  as  citizen."'  The  lew  remains  of  Zeno 
the  Eleatic,  his  paradoxes  agiiinst  the  reality  of  motion,  are 
mere  identical  propositions  spun  out  into  a  sort  of  whimsical 
conundrums,  as  in  the  celebrated  paradox  entitled  Achilles  and 
49 


386 

the  Tortoise,  the  whole  plausibility  of  which  rests  on  the  trick 
ef  assuming  a  minimum  of  time  while  no  minimum  is  allowed  to 
space,  joined  with  that  of  exacting  from   Intelligibilia  (N^f;.£va) 
the  conditions  peculiar  to  objects  of  the  senses  {(pam}j.sm.)    The 
passages  still  extant  from  the  works  of  Gorgias,  on  the   other 
hand,  want  nothing  but  the  form*  of  a  premise   to   undermine 
by  a  legitimate  deductio  ad  absurdum   all  the  philosophic   sys- 
tems that  had  been  hitherto  advanced  with  the  exception  of  the 
Heraclitic,  and  of  that  too  as  it  Avas  generally  understood  and 
interpreted.     Yet  Zeno's  name   was  and  ever  will  be  held  in 
reverence  by  philosophers  ;  for  his  object  was  as  grand  as  his 
motives  were  honorable — that  of  assigning  the  limits  to   the 
claims  of  the   senses,  and  of  subordinating  them  to  the  pure 
reason  :  while  Gorgias  will  ever  be  cited  as  an  instance  of  pro- 
stituted genius  from  the   immoral  nature  of  his  object  and  the 
baseness  of  his  motives.     These  and  not  his  sophisms  constitu- 
ted him  a  sophist,  a  sophist  whose  eloquence   and  logical  skill 
rendered  him  only  the  more  pernicious. 

Soon  after  the  repulse  of  the  Persian  invaders,  and  as  a 
heavy  counter-balance  to  the  glories  of  Marathon  and  Platsea, 
we  may  date  the  commencement  of  that  corruption  first  in  pri- 
vate and  next  in  public  life,  which  displayed  itself  more  or  less 
in  all  the  free  states  and  communities  of  Greece,  but  most  of 
all  in  Athens.  The  causes  are  obvious,  and  such  as  in  popular 
republics  have  always  followed,  and  are  themselves  the  effects 
of,  that  passion  for  military  glory  and  political  preponderance, 
which  may  be  well  called  the  bastard  and  the  parricide  of 
liberty.  In  reference  to  the  fervid  but  light  and  sensitive 
Athenians,  we  may  enumerate,  as  the  most  operative,  the  gid- 
diness of  sudden  aggrandizement ;  the  more  intimate  connec- 
tion and  frequent  intercourse  with  the  Asiatic  states ;  the  in- 
trigues with  the  court  of  Persia ;  the  intoxication  of  the  citi- 
zens at  large,  sustained  and  increased  by  the  continued  allusions 
to  their  recent  exploits,  in  the  flatteries  of  the  theatre,  and  the 
funereal  panegyrics ;  the  rage  for  amusement  and  public  shows  ; 
and  lastly  the  destruction  of  the  Athenian  constitution  by  the 


*  Viz.  Tf  either  the  world  itself  as  an  animated  whole,  according  to  the 
Italian  school ;  or  if  atoms,  according  Democritus ;  or  any  one  primal  ele- 
ment, as  water  or  fii'c,  according  to  Thales  or  Empedocles,  or  if  a  nous,  as 
ext)laincd  by  Anaxagoras ;  be  assumed  as  the  absolutely  first ;  then,  &c. 


387 

ascendancy  of  its  democratlo  element,  During  the  operation 
pf  these  causes,  at  an  early  period  of  the  process,  and  no  uor 
important  part  of  it,  the  Sophists  made  their  first  appearance^ 
Some  of  these  applied  the  lessons  of  their  art  in  their  own  per- 
sons, and  traded  for  gain  and  gainful  influence  in  the  character 
of  demagogues  and  public  orators  ;  but  the  greater  number  of- 
fered themselves  as  instructors,  in  the  arts  of  persuasion  and 
temporary  impression,  to  as  many  as  could  come  up  to  the  high 
prices,  at  which  they  rated  their  services.  Nswv  xm  "TrXouCiwv  sjj.- 
fjt-KrSoi  Sro^euToti  (these  are  Plato^s  icords) — Hireling  hunters  of 
the  young  and  rich,  they  offered  to  the  vanity  of  youth  and  the 
ambition  of  wealth  a  substitute  for  that  authority,  which  by  the 
institutions  of  Solon  had  been  attached  to  high  birth  and  pro- 
perty, or  rather  to  the  moral  discipline,  the  habits,  attainments, 
and  directing  motives,  on  which  the  great  legislator  had  calcu- 
lated (not  indeed  as  necessary  or  constant  accompaniments,  but 
yet)  as  the  regular  and  ordinary  results  of  comparative  opulence 
and  renowned  ancestry. 

The  loss  of  this  stable  and  salutary  influence  was  to  be  sup. 
plied  by  the  arts  of  popularity.  But  in  order  to  the  success  of 
this  scheme,  it  w^as  necessary  that  the  people  themselves  should 
be  degraded  into  a  populace.  The  cupidity  for  dissipation  and 
sensual  pleasure  in  all  ranks  had  kept  pace  with  the  increasing 
inequality  in  the  means  of  gratifying  it  The  restless  spirit  of 
republican  ambition,  engendered  by  their  success  in  a  just  war, 
and  by  the  romantic  character  of  that  success,  had  already  form- 
ed a  close  alliance  with  luxury  in  its  early  and  most  vigoroTis 
state,  when  it  acts  as  an  appetite  to  enkindle,  and  before  it  has 
exhausted  and  dulled  the  vital  energies  by  the  habit  of  enjoy- 
ment. But  this  corruption  was  now  to  be  introduced  into  the 
citadel  of  the  moral  being,^and  to  be  openly  defended  by  the 
very  arms  and  instruments,  which  had  been  given  for  the  pur- 
pose of  preventing  or  chastising  its  approach.  The  understand- 
ing was  to  be  corrupted  by  the  perversion  of  the  reason,  and 
the  feelings  through  the  medium  of  the  understanding.  For 
this  purpose  all  fixed  principles,  whether  grounded  on  reason, 
religion,  law  or  antiquity,  were  to  be  undermined,  and  then, 
as  now,  chiefly  by  the  sophistry  of  submitting  all  positions  alike, 
however  heterogeneous,  to  the  criterion  of  the  mere  under- 
standing, disguising  oi  concealing  the  fact,  that  the  rules  which 
alone  they  applied,  were   abstracted  from   the   objects  of  the 


38b 

senses,  and  applicable  exclusively  to  things  of  quantity  and  re- 
lation. At  all  events,  the  minds  of  men  were  to  be  sensualiz- 
ed; and  even  if  the  arguments  themselves  failed,  yet  the  prin- 
ciples so  attacked  vwere  to  be  brought  into  doubt  by  the  mere 
frequency  of  hearing  all  things  doubted,  and  the  most  sacred 
of  all  now  openly  denied,  and  now  insulted  by  sneer  and  ridi- 
cule. For  by  the  constitution  of  our  nature,  as  far  ae  it  is  hu- 
man nature,  so  awful  is  truth,  that  as  long  as  we  have  faith  in 
its  attainability  and  hopes  of  its  attainment,  there  exists  no 
bribe  strong  enough  to  tempt  us  wholly  and  permanently  from 
our  allegiance. 

Religion,  in  its  widest  sense,  signifies  the  act  and  habit  of 
reverencing  the  Invisible,  as  the  highest  both  in  ourselves 
and  in  nature.  To  this  the  senses  and  their  immediate  objects 
are  to  be  made  subservient,  the  one  as  its  organs,  the  other  as 
its  exponents  :  and  as  such  therefore,  having  on  their  own  ac- 
count no  true  value,  because  no  inherent  ivorth.  They  are  a 
language,  in  short:  and  taken  independently  of  their  represen- 
tative function,  from  words  they  become  mere  empty  sounds, 
and  differ  from  noise  only  by  exciting  expectations  which  they 
cannot  gratify — fit  ingredients  of  the  idolatrous  charm,  the  po- 
tent Abracadabra,  of  a  sophisticated  race,  who  had  sacrificed 
the  religion  of  faith  to  the  superstition  of  the  senses,  a  race  of 
animals,  in  whom  the  presence  of  reason  is  manifested  solely 
by  the  absence  of  instinct. 

The  same  principle,  which  in  its  application  to  the  whole  of 
our  being  becomes  religion,  considered  speculatively  is  the  ba- 
sis of  metaphysical  science,  that,  namely,  which  requires  an 
evidence  beyond  that  of  sensible  concretes,  which  latter  the  an- 
cients generalized  m  the  word,  physica,  and  therefore  (prefix- 
ing the  preposition,  meta,  i.  e.  beyond  or  transcending)  named 
the  superior  science,  metaphysics.  The  Invisible  was  assumed 
as  the  supporter  of  the  apparent,  -uv  (paivoiJ.ivjjy — as  their  substance, 
a  term  which,  in  any  other  interpretation,  expresses  only  the 
striving  of  the  imaginative  power  under  conditions  that  involve 
the  necessity  of  its  frustration.  If  the  Invisible  be  denied,  or 
(which  is  equivalent)  considered  invisible  from  the  defect  of 
the  senses  and  not  in  its  own  nature,  the  sciences  even  of  ob- 
servation and  experiment  lose  their  essential  copula.  The  com- 
ponent parts  can  never  be  reduced  into  an  harmonious  whole, 
but  must  owe  their  systematic  arrangement  to  accidents  of  an 


389 

ever-shifting  perspective.  Much  more  then  must  this  apply  to 
the  moral  world  disjoined  from  religion.  Instead  of  morality, 
we  can  at  best  have  only  a  scheme  of  prudence,  and  this  too 
a  prudence  fallible  and  short-sighted :  for  were  it  of  such  a 
kind  as  to  be  bona  fida  coincident  with  morals  in  reference  to 
the  agent  as  well  as  to  the  outward  action,  its  first  act  would  be 
that  of  abjuring  its  own  usurped  primacy.  By  celestial  ob- 
servations alone  can  even  terrestrial  charts  be  constructed  sci- 
entifically. 

The  first  attempt  therefore  of  the  sophists  was  to  separate 
ethics  from  the  faith  in  the  Invisible,  and  to  stab  morality- 
through  the  side  of  religion — an  attempt  to  which  the  idolatrous 
polytheism  of  Greece  furnished  too  many  facilities.  To  the 
zeal  with  which  he  counteracted  this  plan  by  endeavours  to  pu- 
rify and  ennoble  that  popular  belief,  which,  from  obedience  to 
the  laws,  he  did  not  deem  himself  permitted  to  subvert,  did 
Socrates  owe  his  martyr-cup  of  hemlock.  Still  while  any  one 
principle  of  morality  remained,  religion  in  some  form  or  other 
must  remain  inclusively.  Therefore,  as  they  commenced  by 
assailing  the  former  through  the  latter,  so  did  they  continue 
their  warfare  by  reversing  the  operation.  The  principle  was 
confounded  with  the  particular  acts,  in  which  under  ihe  guid- 
dance  of  the  understanding  or  judgment  it  was  to  manifest 
itself. 

Thus  the  rule  of  expediency,  which  properly  belonged  to 
one  and  the  lower  part  of  morality,  was  made  to  be  the  whole. 
And  so  far  there  was  at  least  a  consistency  in  this  :  for  in  two 
ways  only  could  it  subsist.  It  must  either  be  the  mere  servant 
of  religion,  or  its  usurper  and  substitute.  Viewed  as  princi- 
ples^ they  were  so  utterly  heterogeneous,  that  by  no  grooving 
could  the  two  be  fitted  into  each  other — by  no  intermediate 
could  they  be  preserved  in  lasting  adhesion.  The  one  or  the 
other  was  sure  to  decompose  the  cement.  We  cannot  have  a 
stronger  historical  authority  for  the  truth  of  this  statement, 
than  the  words  of  Polybius,  in  which  he  attributes  the  ruin  of 
the  Greek  states  to  the  frequency  of  perjur}^,  which  they  had 
learnt  from  the  sophists  to  laugh  at  as  a  trifle  that  broke  no 
bones,  nay,  as  in  some  cases,  an  expedient  and  justifiable  ex- 
ertion of  the  power  given  us  by  nature  over  our  own  words, 
without  which  no  man  could  have  a  secret  that  might  not  be 
extorted  from  him  by  the   will  of  others.     In  the  same  spirit, 


390 

the  sage  and  observant  historian  attributes  the  growth  and 
strength  of  the  Roman  republic  to  the  general  reverence  of  tho 
invisible  powers,  and  the  consequent  horror  in  which  the  break- 
ing of  an  oath  was  held.  This  he  states  as  the  causa  causa- 
rum,  as  the  ultimate  and  inclusive  cause  of  Roman  grandeur. 

Under  such  convictions  therefore  as  the  sophists  labored  with 
such  fatal  success  to  produce,  it  needed  nothing  but  the  excite- 
ment of  the  passions  under  circumstances  of  public  discord  to 
turn  the  arguments  of  expedience  and  self-love  against  the 
whole  scheme  of  morality  founded  on  them,  and  to  procure  a 
favorable  hearing  of  the  doctrines,  which  Plato  attributes  to  the 
sophist  Callicles.  The  passage  is  curious,  and  might  be  enti- 
tled, a  Jacobin  Head,  a  genuine  antique,  in  high  preservation. 
"  By  nature,"  exclaims  this  Napoleon  of  old,  "  the  worse  off  is 
always  the  more  infamous,  that,  namely,  which  suffers  wrong  ; 
but  according  to  the  law  it  is  the  doing  of  wrong.  For  no 
man  of  noble  spirit  will  let  himself  be  wronged  :  this  a  slave 
only  endures,  who  is  not  worth  the  life  he  has,  and  under  in- 
juries and  insults  can  neither  help  himself  or  those  that  belong 
to  him.  Those,  who  first  made  the  laws,  were,  in  my  opinion, 
feeble  creatures,  which  in  fact  the  greater  number  of  men  are  ; 
or  they  would  not  remain  entangled  in  these  spider-webs. 
Such,  however,  being  the  case,  laws,  honor,  and  ignominy 
were  all  calculated  for  the  advantage  of  the  law  makers.  But 
in  order  to  frighten  away  the  stronger,  whom  they  could  not 
coerce  by  fair  contest,  and  to  secure  greater  advantages  for 
themselves  than  their  feebleness  could  otherwise  have  procur- 
ed, they  preached  up  the  doctrine,  that  it  was  base  and  contra- 
ry to  right  to  wish  to  have  any  thing  beyond  others  ;  and  that 
in  this  wish  consisted  the  essence  of  injustice.  Doubtless  it 
was  very  agreeable  to  them,  if  being  creatures  of  a  meaner 
class  they  were  allowed  to  share  equally  with  their  natural  su- 
periors. But  nature  dictates  plainly  enough  another  code  of 
right,  namely,  that  the  nobler  and  stronger  should  possess 
more  than  the  weaker  and  more  pusillanimous.  Where  the 
power  is,  there  lies  the  substantial  right.  The  whole  realm  of 
animals,  nay  the  human  race  itself  as  collected  in  independent 
states  and  nations,  demonstrate,  that  the  stronger  has  a  right 
to  control  the  weaker  for  his  own  advantage.  Assuredly, 
they  have  the  genuine  notion  of  right,  and  follow  the  law  of 
nature,  though  truly  not  that  which  is  held  valid  in  our  govern- 


391 

ments.  But  the  minds  of  our  youths  are  preached  away  from 
them  by  declamations  on  the  beauty  and  fitness  of  letting  them- 
selves be  mastered,  till  by  these  verbal  conjurations  the  no- 
blest nature  is  tamed  and  cowed,  like  a  young  lion  born  and 
bred  in  a  cage.  Should  a  man  with  full  untamed  force  but 
once  step  forward,  he  would  break  all  your  spells  and  conjura- 
tions, trample  your  contra-natural  laws  under  his  feet,  vault  in- 
to the  seat  of  supreme  power,  and  in  a  splendid  style  make 
the  right  of  nature  be  valid  among  you." 

It  would  have  been  well  for  mankind,  if  such  had  always  been 
the  language  of  sophistry  !  A  selfishness,  that  excludes  partner- 
ship, all  men  have  an  interest  in  repelling.  Yet  the  principle 
is  the  same  ;  and  if  for  power  we  substitute  pleasure  and  the 
means  of  pleasure  it  is  easy  to  construct  a  system  well  fitted  to 
corrupt  natures,  and  the  more  mischievous  in  proportion  as  it  is 
less  alarming.  As  long  as  the  spirit  of  philosophy  reigns  in  the 
learned  and  highest  class,  and  that  of  religion  in  all  classes,  a  ten- 
dency to  blend  and  unite  will  be  found  in  all  objects  of  pursuit 
and  the  whole  discipline  of  mind  and  manners  will  be  calcu- 
lated in  relation  to  the  worth  of  the  agents.  With  the  preva- 
lence of  sophistry,  when  the  pure  will  (if  indeed  the  existence 
of  a  will  be  admitted  in  any  other  sense  than  as  the  temporary 
main  current  in  the  wide  gust-eddying  stream  of  our  desires  and 
aversions)  is  ranked  among  the  means  to  an  alien  end,  instead 
of  being  itself  the  one  absolute  end,  in  the  participation  of  which 
all  other  things  are  worthy  to  be  called  good — with  this  revolu- 
tion commences  the  epoch  of  division  and  separation.  Things 
are  rapidly  improved,  persons  as  rapidly  deteriorated  ;  and  for 
an  indefinite  period  the  powers  of  the  aggregate  increase,  as  the 
strength  of  the  individual  declines.  Still,  however,  sciences 
may  be  estranged  from  philosophy,  the  practical  from  the  spe- 
culative, and  one  of  the  two  at  least  may  remain.  Music  may 
be  divided  from'poetry,  and  both  may  continue  to  exist,  though 
with  diminished  influence.  But  religion  and  morals  cannot  be 
disjoined  without  the  destruction  of  both  :  and  that  this  does  not 
take  place  to  the  full  extent,  we  owe  to  the  frequency  with  which 
both  take  shelter  in  the  heart,  and  that  men  are  always  better 
or  worse  than  the  maxims  which  they  adopt  or  concede. 

To  demonstrate  the  hollowness  of  the  present  system,  and  to 
deduce  the  truth  from  its  sources,  is  not  possible  for  me  without 
a  previous  agreement  as  to  the  principles  of  reasoning  in  gene- 


392 

ral.  The  attempt  could  neither  be  made  within  the  limits  of  the 
present  work,  nor  would  its  success  greatly  affect  the  immediate 
moral  interests  of  the  majority  of  the  readers  for  whom  this 
work  was  especially  written.  For  as  sciences  are  systems  on 
principles,  so  in  the  life  of  practice  is  morality  a  principle  with- 
out a  system.  Systems  of  morality  are  in  truth  nothing  more 
than  the  old  books  of  casuistry  generalized,  even  of  that  casuis- 
try, which  the  genius  of  protestantism  gradually  worked  off  from 
itself  like  an  heterogeneous  humor,  together  with  the  practice 
of  auricular  confession  :  a  fact  the  more  striking,  because  in 
both  instances  it  was  against  the  intention  of  the  first  teachers 
of  the  reformation  :  and  the  revival  of  both  was  not  only  urged, 
but  provided  for,  though  in  Aain,  by  no  less  men  than  Bishops 
Saunderson  and  Jeremy  Taylor. 

But  there  is  ^^et  another  prohibitory  reason — and  this  I  can- 
not convey  more  effectually  than  in  the  words  of  Plato  to 
Dionysius — 

AXXw,  i:o'i{iv  -ri  (iv^v   toi;-'  tViv,  o)   'irFii  An/jvutfiou    xa!  Awp/iJoc:,   to   i£'oj-r'>],a«j  o 

(Translation) — But  M'Jjat  a  question  is  this,  wliich  you  propose,  Oh  son  of 
Dionyt-ius  and  Doris! — what  is  the  origin  and  cause  of  all  evil?  But  rallier  is 
the  darkness  and  travail  concerning  this,  that  thorn  in  the  sou)  which  unless 
a  man  shall  have  had  removed,  never  can  he  partake  of  the  truth  that  is  verily 
and  indeed  truth. 

Yet  that  I  may  fulfil  the  original  scope  of  the  Friend,  I  shall 
attempt  to  provide  the  preparatory  steps  for  such  an  investiga- 
tion in  the  following  Essays  on  the  Principles  of  Method  com- 
mon to  ail  investigations  :  which  I  here  present,  as  the  basis  of 
my  future  philosophical  and  theological  writings,  and  as  the  ne- 
cessary introduction  to  the  same.  And  in  addition  to  this,  I 
can  conceive  no  object  of  inquir}^  more  appropriate,  none  which, 
commencing  with  the  most  familiar  truths,  with  facts  of  hourly 
experience,  and  gradually  winning  its  way  to  positions  the  most 
compreliensive  and  su])lime,  will  more  aptly  prepare  the  mind 
for  the  reception  of  specific  knowledge,  than  the  full  exposition 
of  a  principle  which  is  the  condition  of  all  intellectual  progress, 
and  which  may  be  said  even  to  constilule  the  science  of  educa- 
tion, alike  in  the  narrowest  and  in  the  most  extensive  sense  of 


393 

the  word.  Yet  as  it  is  but  fair  to  let  the  public  know  before- 
hand, what  the  genius  of  my  philosophy  is,  and  in  what  spirit 
it  will  be  applied  by  me,  whether  in  politics,  or  religion,  I  con- 
clude with  the  following  brief  history  of  the  last  130  years,  by 
a  lover  of  Old  England  : 

Wise  and  necessitated  confirmation  and  explanation  of  the 
law  of  England,  erroneously  entitled  The  English  Revolution 
of  1688 — Mechanical  Philosophy,  hailed  as  a  kindred  revolu- 
tion in  philosophy,  and  espoused,  as  a  common  cause,  by  the 
partizans  of  the  revolution  in  the  state. 

The  consequence  is,  or  was,  a  system  of  natural  rights  instead 
of  social  and  hereditary  privileges — acquiescence  in  histoi;ic  tes- 
timony substituted  for  faith — and  yet  the  true  historical  feeling, 
the  feeling  of  being  an  historical  people,  generation  linked  to 
generation  by  ancestral  repution,  by  tradition,  by  heraldry — this 
noble  feeling,  I  say,  openly  stormed  or  perilously  undermined. 

Imagination  excluded  from  poesy  ;  and  fancy  paramount  in 
physics  ;  the  eclipse  of  the  ideal  by  the  mere  shadow  of  the 
sensible — subfiction  for  supposition.  Plebs pro  Se7iatu  Popu- 
loque — the  wealth  of  nations  for  the  well-being  of  nations,  and 
of  man  ! 

Anglo-mania  in  France  ;  followed  by  revolution  in  America — 
constitution  of  America  appropriate,  perhaps,  to  America  ;  but 
elevated  from  a  particular  experiment  to  an  universal  model. 
The  word  constitution  altered  to  mean  a  capitulation,  a  treaty, 
imposed  by  the  people  on  their  own  government,  as  on  a  con- 
quered enemy — hence  giving  sanction  to  falsehood,  and  uni- 
versality to  anomaly  !  !  ! 

Despotism  !  Despotism  !  Despotism  ! of  finance  in  statis- 
tics— of  vanity  in  social  converse — of  presumption  and  over- 
weening contempt  of  the  ancients  in  individuals  ! 

French  Revolution  ! — Pauperism,  revenue  laws,  govern- 
ment by  clubs,  committees,  societies,  reviews,  and  newspapers ! 

Thus  it  is  that  nation  first  sets  fire  to  a  neighbouring  nation  ; 
then  catches  fire  and  burns  backward. 

Statesmen  should  know  that  a  learned  class  is  an  essential 
element  of  a  state — at  least  of  a  Christian  state.  But  you  wish 
for  general  illumination  !  You  begin  with  the  attempt  to  popw- 
larize  learning  and  philosophy  ;  but  you  will  end  in  the  plebifi- 
caiion  of  knowledge.  A  true  philosophy  in  the  learned  class 
is  essential  to  a  true  religious  feeling  in  all  classes. 
50 


394 

In  fine,  religion,  true  or  false,  is  and  ever  has  been  the  moral 
centre  of  gravity  in  Christendom,  to  which  all  other  things  must 
and  will  accommodate  themselves. 


ESSAY     IV. 


"O  ds  dixaiof  igt  ttoieIv^  ct'xovs  nofg  xqrf  e/aiv  s/is  y.ai  as  ngo^g^aXlrj- 
Xovg-  El  fiEV  "oAwj  (piloaocpiag  ycaruTtcCpqo'vi^yag,  iav  xalgsiv  et  da 
Ttag^  BTsgov  'ay-ify-oag  if  ^uvjo'g  (^elriovu  evgrjxug  roTv  nug'  sf.id' i,  ix- 
etvtt  Tt'jUw  iv  d'  "aga  xu"  nag''  " i] fiixT v  aol  'ugsaxsi,  Ti^i^reov  xul  ifis 
fiu'Xiga. 

IIAATSIN-  /iIRN:  enig-  devTsga^ 

Translation. — ^Hear  then  what  are  the  terms  on  which  you  and  I  ought  to 
stand  toward  each  other.  If  you  hold  pliilosophy  altogether  in  contempt, 
bid  it  farewell.  Or  if  you  have  heard  from  any  other  person,  or  have  your- 
self found  out  a  better  than  mine,  then  give  honor  to  that,  whichev^er  it  be. 
But  if  the  doctrine  taught  in  these  our  works  please  you,  then  it  is  but  just 
that  you  should  honor  me  too  m  the  same  proportion. 

Plato's  2d  Letter  to  Dion. 


What  is  that  which  first  strikes  us,  and  strikes  us  at  once, 
in  a  man  of  education?  And  which,  among  educated  men,  so 
instantly  distinguishes  the  man  of  superior  mind,  that  (as  was 
observed  with  eminent  propriety  of  the  late  Edmund  Burke) 
"  we  cannot  stand  under  the  same  arch-way  during  a  shower  of 
rain,  without  finding  him  out  9^^  Not  the  weight  or  novelty  of 
his  remarks  ;  not  any  unusual  interest  of  facts  communicated 
by  him ;  for  we  may  suppose  both  the  one  and  the  other  preclu- 
ded by  the  shortness  of  our  intercourse,  and  the  triviality  of 
the  subjects.  The  difference  will  be  impressed  and  felt,  though 
the  conversation  should  be  confined  to  the  state  of  the  weather 


395 

or  the  pavement.  Still  less  will  it  arise  from  any  peculiarity  in 
his  words  and  phrases.  For  if  he  be,  as  we  now  assume,  a  well- 
educated  man  as  well  as  a  man  of  superior  powers,  he  will  not 
fail  to  follow  the  golden  rule  of  Julius  Caesar,  Insolens  verbum^ 
tanquam  scopuluin,  evitare.  Unless  where  new  things  neces- 
sitate new  terms,  he  will  avoid  an  unusual  word  as  a  rock.  It 
must  have  been  among  the  earliest  lessons  of  his  youth,  that  the 
breach  of  this  precept,  at  all  times  hazardous,  becomes  ridicu- 
lous in  the  topics  of  ordinary  conversation.  There  remains  but 
one  other  point  of  distinction  possible  ;  and  this  must  be,  and 
in  fact  is,  the  true  cause  of  the  impression  made  on  us.  It  is 
the  unpremeditated  and  evidently  habitual  arrangement  of  his 
words,  grounded  on  the  habit  of  foreseeing,  in  each  integral 
part,  or  (more  plainly)  in  every  sentence,  the  whole  that  he 
then  intends  to  communicate.  However  irregular  and  desul- 
tory his  talk,  there  is  method  in  the  fragments. 

Listen,  on  the  other  hand,  to  an  ignorant  man,  though  per- 
haps shrewd  and  able  in  his  particular  calling ;  whether  he  be 
describing  or  relating.  We  immediately  perceive,  that  his  me- 
mory alone  is  called  into  action  ;  and  that  the  objects  and 
events  recur  in  the  narration  in  the  same  order,  and  with  the 
same  accompaniments,  however  accidental  or  impertinent,  as 
they  had  first  occurred  to  the  narrator.  The  necessity  of  tak- 
ing breath,  the  efforts  of  recollection,  and  the  abrupt  rectifica- 
tion of  its  failures,  produce  all  his  pauses  ;  and  with  exception 
of  the  '•'■and  then,^''  the  "antZ  tJiere,'^  and  the  still  less  signi- 
ficant, "and  so,"  they  constitute  likewise  all  his  connections. 

Our  discussion,  however,  is  confined  to  Method  as  employed 
in  the  formation  of  the  understanding,  and  in  the  constructions 
of  science  and  literature.  It  would  indeed  be  superfluous  to 
attempt  a  proof  of  its  importance  in  the  business  and  economy 
of  active  or  domestic  life.  From  the  cotter's  hearth  or  the 
workshop  of  the  artizan,  to  the  palace  of  the  arsenal,  the  first 
merit,  that  which  admits  neither  substitute  nor  equivalent,  is 
that  every  thing  is  in  its  place.  Where  this  charm  is  wanting, 
every  other  merit  either  loses  its  name,  or  becomes  an  addi- 
tional ground  of  accusation  and  regret.  Of  one,  by  whom  it  is 
eminently  possessed,  we  say  proverbially,  he  is  like  clock- 
work. The  resemblance  extends  beyond  the  point  of  regular- 
ity, and  yet  falls  short  of  the  truth.  Both  do,  indeed,  at  once 
divide  and  announce  the  silent  and  otherwise  indistinguishable 


396 

lapse  of  time.  But  the  man  of  methodical  industry  and  honor- 
able pursuits,  does  more  :  he  realizes  its  ideal  divisions,  and 
gives  a  character  and  individuality  to  its  moments.  If  the 
idle  are  described  as  killing  time,  he  may  be  justly  said  to  call 
it  into  life  and  moral  being,  while  he  makes  it  the  distinct  ob- 
ject not  only  of  the  consciousness,  but  of  the  conscience.  He 
organizes  the  hours,  and  gives  them  a  soul  :  and  that,  the  very 
essence  of  which  is  to  fleet  away,  and  evermore  to  have  been, 
he  takes  up  into  his  own  permanence,  and  communicates  to  it 
the  imperishableness  of  a  spiritual  nature.  Of  the  good  and 
faithful  servant,  whose  energies,  thus  directed,  are  thus  metho- 
dized, it  is  less  truly  afiirmed,  that  He  lives  in  time,  than  that 
Time  lives  in  him.  His  days,  months,  and  years,  as  the  stops 
and  punctual  marks  in  the  records  of  duties  performed,  will 
survive  the  w^reck  of  worlds,  raid  remain  extant  when  time  it- 
self shall  be  no  more. 

But  as  the  importance  of  Method  in  the  duties  of  social  life 
is  incomparably  greater,  so  are  its  practical  elements  propor- 
tionably  obvious,  and  such  as  relate  to  the  will  far  more  than  to 
the  understanding.  Henceforward,  therefore,  we  contemplate 
its  bearings  on  the  latter. 

The  dilFerence  between  the  products  of  a  well-disciplined 
and  those  of  an  uncultivated  understanding,  in  relation  to  what 
we  will  now  venture  to  call  the  Scietice  of  Method,  is  often  and 
admirably  exhibited  by  our  Dramatist.  We  scarcely  need  re- 
fer our  readers  to  the  Clown's  evidence,  in  the  first  scene  of 
the  second  act  of  "  Measure  for  Measure,"  or  the  Nurse  in 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet."  But  not  to  leave  the  position,  without 
an  instance  to  illustrate  it,  we  will  take  the  "  easy-yielding  " 
Mrs.  Quickley's  relation  of  the  circumstances  of  Sir  John  Fal- 
stafF's  debt  to  her. 

Falstaff.     What  is  the  gross  sum  that  I  owe  thee? 

Mrs.  QuicKLEY.  Marry,  if  thou  wert  an  honest  man,  thyself  and  the  money 
too.  Thou  didst  swear  to  nie  upon  a  parcel-gilt  goblet,  sitting  in  my  dolphin 
chamber,  at  the  round  table,  I)y  a  sea-coal  tire,  on  Wednesday  in  Whitsun  week 
when  the  prince  broke  thy  head  for  likening  his  father  to  a  singing-man  in 
Windsor— thou  didst  swear  to  me  then,  as  I  was  washing  thy  wound,  to  marry 
me  and  make  me  my  lady  thy  wife.  Canst  thou  deny  it?  Did  not  good- 
wife  Keech,  the  butcher's  wife,  come  in  then  and  call  me  gossip  Quickley  ? — 
coming  in  to  borrow  a  mess  of  vinegar:  telling  us  she  had  a  good  dish  of 
prawns— wherel)y  thou  didst  desire  to  cat  some— whereby  I  told  thee  they 
were  ill  for  a  green  wound,  &c.  &c.  &c.        Henry  IV  1st.  pt.  act  ii.  so.  1. 


397 

And  this,  be  it  observed,  is  so  far  from  being  carried  beyond 
the  bounds  of  a  fair  imitation,  that  "  the  poor  soul's"  thoughts 
and  sentences  are  more  closely  interlinked  than  the  truth  of 
nature  would  have  required,  but  that  the  connections  and  se- 
quence, which  the  habit  of  Method  can  alone  give,  have  in  this 
instance  a  substitute  in  the  fusion  of  passion.     For  the  absence 
of  Method,  which  characterizes  the  uneducated,  is  occasioned 
by  an  habitual  submission  of  the  understanding  to  mere  events 
and  images  as  such,  and  independent  of  any  power  in  the  mind 
to  classify  or  appropriate  them.     The  general  accompaniments 
of  time  and  place  are  the  only  relations  which  persons  of  this 
class  appear  to  regard  in  their  statements.     As  this  constitutes 
their  leading  feature,  the  contrary  excellence,  as  distinguishing 
the  well-educated  man,  must  be  referred  to  the  contrary  habit. 
Method,   therefore,  becomes  natural  to  the  mind  which  has 
been  accustomed  to  contemplate  not  things  only,  or  for  their 
own  sake  alone,  but  likewise  and  chiefly  the  relations  of  things, 
either  their  relations  to  each  other,  or  to  the  observer,  or  to  the 
state   and   apprehension    of  the    hearers.     To   enumerate   and 
analyze  these  relations,  with  the  conditions  under  which  alone 
they  are  discoverable,  is  to  teach  the  science  of  Method. 

The  enviable  results  of  this  science,  when  knowledge  has 
been  ripened  into  those  habits  which  at  once  secure  and  evince 
its  possession,  can  scarcely  be  exhibited  more  forcibly  as  well 
as  more  pleasingly,  than  by  contrasting  with  the  former  extract 
from  Shakspeare  the  narration  given  by  Hamlet  to  Horatio  of 
the  occurrences  during  his  proposed  transportation  to  England, 
and  the  events  that  interrupted  his  voyage. 

Ham.  Sir,  in  my  heart  tlierc  was  a  kind  of  fighting 
That  would  not  let  me  sleep :  niethouglit  I  lay 
Worse  than  the  mutines  in  the  bilboes.     Rashly, 

And  prais'd  be  rashness  for  it Let  us  know, 

Our  indiscretion  sometimes  serves  us  well, 
When  our  deep  plots  do  fail:  and  that  should  teach  us. 
There's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough-hew  them  Jioiv  ive  tcill. 

HoR.  That  is  most  certain. 

Ham.  Up  from  njy  cal)in, 
My  sea-gown  scarf 'd  about  me,  in  tlie  dark 
Grop'd  I  to  find  ovit  them  ;  had  my  desire  ; 
Finger'd  their  pocket ;  and,  in  fine,  withdrew 
To  my  own  room  again  :  making  so  bold, 
My  fe/:ir3  forgetting  manners,  to  unseal 


398 

Their  grand  commission ;  where  /  found,  Horatio, 
A  rojail  l<navery— an  exact  command, 
Larded  ivith  many  several  sorts  of  reasons, 
Importing  DcmnarKs  health,  and  England'' s  too, 
Willi,  bo!  such  bugs  and  goblins  in  my  life, 
That  on  the  supervize,  no  leisure  bated. 
No,  not  to  stay  the  grinding  of  the  axe, 
My  head  should  be  struck  off! 

HoR.  Is't  possible  ? 

Ham.  Here's  the  commission. — Read  it  at  more  leisure. 

Act  V.  so.  2. 

Here  the  events,  with  the  circumstances  of  time  andfplace, 
are  all  stated  with  equal  compression  and  rapidity,  not  one  in- 
troduced which  could  have  been  omitted  without  injury  to  the 
intelligibility  of  the  whole  process.  If  any  tendency  is  dis- 
coverable, as  far  as  the  mere  facts  are  in  question,  it  is  the  ten- 
dency to  omission  :  and,  accordingly,  the  reader  will  observe, 
that  the  attention  of  the  narrator  is  called  back  to  one  material 
circumstance,  which  he  was  hurrying  by,  by  a  direct  question 
from  the  friend  to  whom  the  story  is  communicated,  "  How 
WAS  THIS  SEALED  ?"  But  by  a  trait  which  is  indeed  peculiarly 
characteristic  of  Hamlet's  mind,  ever  disposed  to  generalize, 
and  meditative  to  excess  (but  which,  with  due  abatement  and 
reduction,  is  distinctive  of  every  powerful  and  methodizing  in- 
tellect), all  the  digressions  and  enlaigements  consist  of  reflec- 
tions, truths,  and  principles  of  general  and  permanent  interest, 
either  directly  expressed  or  disguised  in  playful  satire. 


-I  sat  me  down  ; 


Devis'd  a  new  connnission  ;  wrote  it  fair, 

I  once  did  hold  it,  as  our  statists  do, 

t^  baseness  to  uritefair,  and  laboured  much 

How  to  forget  that  learning:  but,  sii-,  now 

It  did  me  yeoman's  service.     Wilt  thou  know 

The  effect  of  what  I  wrote  ? 

HoR.     Aye,  good  my  lord. 

Ham.    An  earnest  conjuration  from  the  king, 
As  England  was  his  faithfid  tril)utary  ; 
As  love  between  them,  like  the  palm,  might  flourish ; 
As  peace  shoidd  still  her  tvheaten  garland  tvear. 
And  many  such  like  As''s  of  great  charge — 
That  On  the  view  and  knowing  of  these  contents 
He  should  the  bearers  put  to  sudden  death. 
No  shriving  time  allowed. 

HoR.     How  was  tliis  sealed  ? 

Ham.     Why,  even  in  that  was  heaven  ordinant. 


399 

I  had  my  father's  signet  in  my  purse. 
Which  was  the  model  of  that  Danish  seal : 
Folded  the  wiit  up  in  the  form  of  the  other ; 
Subscribed  it ;  gave't  the  impression  ;  placed  it  safely, 
The  changeling  never  known.     Now,  the  next  day 
Was  our  sea-fight ;  and  what  to  this  was  sequent, 
Thou  knowest  already. 

HoR.     So  Guildenstern  and  Rosencrantz  go  to't  ? 

Ham.     Why,  man,  they  did  make  love  to  this  employmont 
They  are  not  near  my  conscience :  their  defeat 
Doth  by  their  own  insinuation  grow. 
'TVs  dangerous  when  the  baser  nature  comes 
Between  the  pass  and  fell  incensed  points 
Of  mighty  apposites. 

It  would,  perhaps,  be  sufficient  to  remark  of  the  preceding 
passage,  in  connection  with  the  humorous  specimen  of  narration, 

"  Fermenting  o'er  with  frothy  circumstances," 

in  Henry  IV.  ;  that  if  overlooking  the  different  value  of  the 
matter  in  each,  we  considered  the  form  alone,  we  should  find 
both  immethodical  ;  Hamlet  from  the  excess,  Mrs.  Quickley 
from  the  want,  of  reflection  and  generalization  ;  and  that  Method, 
therefore,  must  result  from  the  due  mean  or  balance  between 
our  passive  impressions  and  the  mind's  own  re-action  on  the 
same.  (Whether  this  re- action  do  not  suppose  or  imply  a  pri- 
mary act  positively  originating  in  the  mind  itself,  and  prior  to 
the  object  in  order  of  nature,  though  co-instantaneous  in  its 
manifestation,  will  be  hereafter  discussed.)  But  we  had  a  fur- 
ther purpose  in  thus  contrasting  these  extracts  from  our  "  myriad- 
minded  Bard,"  ( [j.u^iovouc;  avop. )  We  wished  to  bring  forward, 
each  for  itself,  these  two  elements  of  Method,  or  (to  adopt  an 
arithmetical  term)  its  two  xn&m  factors. 

Instances  of  the  want  of  generalization  are  of  no  rare  occur- 
rence in  real  life  :  and  the  narrations  of  Shakspeare's  Hostess 
and  the  Tapster,  differ  from  those  of  the  ignorant  and  unthink- 
ing in  general,  by  their  superior  humor,  the  poet's  own  gift 
and  infusion,  not  by  their  want  of  Method,  which  is  not  greater 
than  we  often  meet  with  in  that  class,  of  which  they  are  the 
dramatic  representatives.  Instances  of  the  opposite  fault,  aris- 
ing from  the  excess  of  generalization  and  reflection  in  minds 
of  the  opposite  class,  will,  like  the  minds  themselves,  occur 
less  frequently  in  the  course  of  our  own  personal  experience. 
Yet  they  will  not  have  been  wanting  to  our  readers,  nor  will 


400 
they  have  passed  unobserved,  though  the  great  poet  himself 

(o  Ti^v  fauTou  nJ,uv7^v  we'Ji    iXr^v  r/va    K'o:;.'.«rov    fi.opOKic;    iroixh-oic;   p.o^(pC}ijac;*  ) 
has  more  conveniently  supplied  the  illustrations.     To  complete, 
therefore,  the  purpose  aforementioned,  that   of  presenting  each 
of  the  two  components  as   separately   as  possible,  we  chose  an 
instance  in  which,  by  the  surplus  of  its  own  activity,  Hamlet's 
mind  disturbs  the  arrangement,  of  v/hich  that  very  activity  had 
been  the  cause  and   impulse.     Thus  exuberance  of  mind,   on 
the  one  hand,   interferes  with  the  forms  of  Method  ;   but  ste- 
rility of  mind,  on  the  other,  wanting  the   spring  and  impulse  to 
mental  action,  is  w^holly  destructive  of  Method  itself.     For  in 
attending   too   exclusively  to  the   relations  which  the   past  or 
passing  events  and  objects  bear  to  general  truth,  and  the  moods 
of  his  own  Thought,  the  most  intelligent  man  is  sometimes  in 
danger  of  overlooking   that  other  relation,  in   which   they  are 
likewise  to  be   placed  to   the  apprehension   and  sympathies  of 
his  hearers.     His  discourse  appears  like   soliloquy    intermixed 
•with  dialogue.    But  the  uneducated  and  unreflecting  talker  over- 
take all  mental   relations,  both   logical  and  psychological ;  and 
consequently  precludes  all  Method,   that   is  not  purely  acci- 
dental.    Hence  the  nearer  the  things  and  incidents  in  time  and 
place,   the   more   distant,   disjointed,   and   impertinent  to  each 
other,  and  to  any  common  purpose,  will  they  appear  in  his  nar- 
ration :  and  this  from  the  w^ant  of  a  staple,  or  star'ting-post,  in 
the  narrator  himself;  from  the  absence  of  the  leading  Thought, 
which,    borrowing  a  phrase  from  the  nomenclature  of  legisla- 
tion, we  may  not  inaptly  call  the  Initiative.     On  the  contra- 
ry, where  the  habit  of  Method  is  present  and  effective,  things 
the  most  remote  and  diverse  in  time,  place,   and  outward   cir- 
cumstance, are  brought   into  mental  contiguity  and  succession, 
the  more  striking  as  the  less  expected.     But  while   we  would 
impress  the    necessity   of  this  habit,  the   illustrations  adduced 
give  proof  that  in  undue  preponderance,  and  when  the  prero- 
gative of  the  mind  is  stretched   into  despotism,   the    discourse 
may  degenerate  into  the  grotesque  or  the  fantastical. 

With  what  a  profound  insight  into  the  constitution  of  the  hu- 
man soul  is  this  exhibited  to  us  in  the  chararter  of  the  Prince 
of  Denmark,  where  Hying  from  the  sense  of  reality,  and  seek- 


Translat'wn. — He  that  moulded  his  own  soul,  as  some  incorporeal  material, 
into  various  forms.  Themistics. 


401 

ing  a  reprieve  from  the  pressure  of  its  duties,  in  that  ideal  ac- 
tivity, the  overbalance  of  which,  with  the  consequent  indispo- 
sition to  action,  is  his  disease,  he  compels  the  reluctant  good 
sense  of  the  high  yet  healthful-minded  Horatio,  to  follow  him 
in  his  wayward  meditation  amid  the  graves  ?  "  To  what  base 
uses  we  may  return,  Horatio  !  Why  may  not  imagination  trace 
the  noble  dust  of  Alexander,  till  he  find  it  stopping  a  bung- 
hole  ?  HoR.  It  were  to  consider  too  curiously  to  consider  so. 
Ham.  No,  faith,  not  a  jot  ;  but  to  follow  him  thither  with 
modesty  enough  and  likelihood  to  lead  it.  As  thus  :  Alexan- 
der died,  Alexander  was  buried,  Alexander  returneth  to  dust — 
the  dust  is  earth  ;  of  earth  lue  make  loam  :  and  why  of  that 
loam,  whereto  he  was  converted,  might  they  not  stop  a  beer- 
barrel  ? 

Imperial  Ccesar,  dead  and  turned  to  clay. 
Might  slop  a  hole  to  keep  the  wind  away  /" 

But  let  it  not  escape  our  recollection,  that  when  the  objects 
thus  connected  are  proportionate  to  the  connecting  energy,  re- 
latively to  the  real,  or  at  least  to  the  desirable  sympathies  of 
mankind  ;  it  is  from  the  same  character  that  we  derive  the  ge- 
nial method  in  the  famous  soliloquy,  "  To  be  ?  or  not  to  be  V 
which,  admired  as  it  is,  and  has  been,  has  yet  received  only  the 
first-fruits  of  the  admiration  due  to  it. 

We  have  seen  that  from  the  confluence  of  innumerable  im- 
pressions in  each  moment  of  time  the  mere  passive  memory 
must  needs  tend  to  confusion — a  rule,  the  seeming  exceptions  to 
which  (the  thunder-bursts  in  Lear,  for  instance)  are  really  con- 
firmations of  its  truth.  For,  in  many  instances,  the  predomi- 
nance of  some  mighty  Passion  takes  the  place  of  the  guiding 
Thought,  and  the  result  presents  the  method  of  Nature,  rather 
than  the  habit  of  the  Individual.  For  Thought,  Imagination 
(and  we  may  add.  Passion,)  are,  in  their  very  essence,  the  first, 
connective,  the  latter  co-adunative  :  and  it  has  been  shown, 
that  if  the  excess  lead  to  Method  misapplied,  and  to  connec- 
tions of  the  moment,  the  absence,  or  marked  deficiency,  either 
precludes  Method  altogether,  both  form  and  substance  :  or  (as 
the  following  extract  will  exemplify)  retains  the  outv^^ard  form 
only. 

My  liege  and  7nadam!  (o  expostulate 
What  majesty  shmdd  he,  what  duty  is, 
51 


402 

WTiy  day  is  day,  night  night,  and  time  is  time, 
Were  nothing  but  to  waste  night,  day  and  time. 
Therefore — since  brevity  is  the  soul  of  unt, 
Jlnd  tediousness  the  limbs  and  outward  flourishes, 
I  ivill  be  brief     Yoiir  noble  son  is  mad  : 
Mad  call  I  it^or  to  define  tnie  madness. 
What  isH,  but  to  be  nothing  else  but  mad! 
But  let  that  go. 

Queen.    More  matter  with  less  art. 

Pol.    Madam!  I  swear,  I  use  no  art  at  all. 
That  he  is  mad.  His  true :  His  true,  His  pity  : 
,^nd  pity  His,  His  true  (a  foolish  figure ! 
But  fareivell  it,  for  I  will  use  no  art.) 
Mad  let  us  grant  him  then  :  and  now  remains, 
Tliat  we  find  out  the  cause  of  this  efiect : 
Or  rather  say  the  cause  of  this  defect : 
For  this  effect  defective  comes  by  cause. 
Thus  it  remains,  and  the  remainder  thus 
Perpend  ! 

Hamlet,  act  ii.  scene  2. 

Does  not  the  irresistible  sense  of  the  ludicrous  in  this  flourish 
of  the  soul-surviving  body  of  old  Polonius's  intellect,  not  less 
than  in  the  endless  confirmations  and  most  undeniable  matters 
of  fact,  of  Tapster  Pompey  or  "  the  hostess  of  the  tavern  " 
prove  to  our  feelings,  even  before  the  word  is  found  which  pre- 
sents the  truth  to  our  understandings,  that  confusion  and  forma- 
lity are  but  the  opposite  poles  of  the  same  null-point. 

It  is  Shakspeare's  peculiar  excellence,  that  throughout  the 
whole  of  his  splendid  picture  gallery  (the  reader  Avill  excuse 
the  confest  inadequacy  of  this  metaphor),  w^e  find  individuality 
every  where,  mere  portrait  no  where.  In  all  his  various  cha- 
racters, we  still  feel  ourselves  communing  with  the  same  human 
nature,  which  is  every  where  present  as  the  vegetable  sap  in 
the  branches,  sprays,  leaves,  buds,  blossoms,  and  fruits,  their 
shapes,  tastes,  and  odours.  Speaking  of  the  effect,  i.  e.  his  works 
themselves,  we  may  define  the  excellence  of  their  method  as 
consisting  in  that  just  proportion,  that  union  and  interpenetra- 
tion  of  the  universal  and  the  particular,  which  must  ever  per- 
vade all  works  of  decided  genius  and  true  science.  For  Method 
implies  a  progressive  transition^  and  it  is  the  meaning  of  the 
word  in  the  original  language.  Tiie  Greek  i\l3^of5oj:,  is  literally  a 
way.,  or  path  of  Transit.  Thus  we  extol  the  Elements  of  Eu- 
clid, or  Socrates'  discourse  with  the  slave  in  the  Menon,  as  me- 
thodical., a  term  which  no  one  who  holds  himself  bound  to  think 


403 


or  speak  correctly,  would  apply  to  the  alphabetical  order  or  ar- 
rangement of  a  common  dictionary.  But  as,  without  continu- 
ous transition,  there  can  be  no  Method,  so  without  a  pre-con- 
ception  there  can  be  no  transition  with  continuity.  The  term, 
Method,  cannot  therefore,  otherwise  than  by  abuse,  be  applied 
to  a  mere  dead  arrangement,  containing  in  itself  no  principle  of 
progression. 


ESSAY    V. 


Sctentiis  idem  quod  plantis.  Siplanta  aliqiid  uti  in  animo  habeas,  de  radice  quid 
fiat,  nil  refert :  si  vera  transferre  cupias  in  aliud  solum,  tutius  est  radicibus  idi 
quum  surcidis.  Sic  iraditio,  qua  nunc  in  %isu  est,  exhibet plane  tanquam  tntncos 
(pulchros  Ulos  quidem)  scientiarum ;  sed  lamen  absque  radicibus  fahro  lignano 
cede  commodos,  at  plantatori  inutiles.  Quorf  si,  disciplines  ut  crescant,  tibi 
cordi  sit,  de  truncis  minus  sis  solicitus  :  ad  id  curam  adhibe,  ut  radices  illmsoR 
etiam  cum  aliquantulo  terrm  adfuerentis,  extrahantur :  dummodo  hoc  pacta  et 
scientiam  propiiam  revisere,  vestigia  que  cognitionis  turn  rcmctiri  possis  ;  ej 
eam  sic  transplantare  in  animum  alienum,  sicid  crevit  in  tuo. 

Baco  de  Augment.  Scient.  1.  vi.  c.  ii. 

[Translation.) — It  is  with  science  as  with  trees.  If  it  be  your  purpose  to  make 
some  particular  twe  of  the  tree,  you  need  not  concern  yourself  about  the 
roots.  But  if  you  wish  to  transfer  it  into  another  soil,  it  is  then  safer  to  em- 
ploy the  roots,  than  the  scyons.  Thus  the  mode  of  teaching  most  common 
at  present  exhibits  clearly  enough  the  trunks,  as  it  were,  of  the  sciences, 
and  those  too  of  handsome  growth;  but  nevertheless,  without  the  roots, 
valuable  and  convenient  as  they  undoubtedly  are  to  the  carpenter,  they  are 
useless  to  the  jjlanter.  But  if  you  have  at  heart  the  advancement  of  edu- 
cation, as  that  which  proposes  to  itself  the  general  discipline  of  the  mind 
for  its  end  and  aim,  be  less  anxious  concerning  the  trunks,  and  let  it  be 
your  care,  that  the  roots  should  be  extracted  entire,  even  though  a  small 
portion  of  the  soil  should  adhere  to  them :  so  that  at  all  events  you  may  be 
able,  by  this  means,  both  to  review  your  own  scientific  acquirements,  re- 
measuring  as  it  were  the  steps  of  your  knowledge  for  your  own  satisfaction, 
and  at  the  same  time  to  transplant  it  into  the  minds  of  others,  just  as  it  grew 
in  your  own. 


404 

It  has  been  observed,  in  a  preceding  page,  that  the  rela- 
tions of  objects  are  prime  materials  of  Method,  and  that  the 
conteniplalion  of  relations  is  the  indispensable  condition  of 
thinking  methadically.  It  becomes  necessary  therefore  to  add, 
that  there  are  two  kinds  of  relation,  in  which  objects  of  mind 
may  be  contemplated.  The  first  is  that  of  Law,  which,  in  its 
absolute  perfection,  is  conceivable  only  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
whose  creative  idea  not  only  appoints  to  each  thing  its  posi- 
tion, but  in  that  position,  and  in  consequence  of  that  position, 
gives  it  its  qualities,  yea,  it  gives  its  very  existence,  as  that 
particular  thing.  Yet  in  whatever  science  the  relation  of  the 
parts  to  each  other  and  to  the  whole  is  predetermined  by  a 
truth  originating  in  the  mind,  and  not  abstracted  or  generalized 
from  observation  of  the  parts,  there  we  affirm  the  presence  of 
a  law,  if  w^e  are  speaking  of  the  physical  sciences,  as  of  As- 
tronomy for  instance  ;  or  tlie  presence  of  fundamental  ideas,  if 
our  discourse  be  upon  those  sciences,  the  truths  of  which,  as 
truths  absolute,  not  merely  have  an  independent  origin  in  the 
mind,  but  continue  to  exist  in  and  for  the  mind  alone.  Such, 
for  instance,  is  Geometry,  and  such  are  the  ideas  of  a  perfect 
circle,  of  asymptots,  &c. 

We  have  thus  assigned  the  first  place  in  the  science  of  Me- 
thod to  Law  ;  and  first  of  the  first,  to  Law,  as  the  absolute 
kind  which  comprehending  in  itself  the  substance  of  every 
possible  degree  precludes  from  its  conception  all  degree,  not 
by  generalization  but  by  its  own  plenitude.  As  such,  there- 
fore, and  as  the  sufficient  cause  of  the  reality  correspondent 
thereto,  we  contemplate  it  as  exclusively  an  attribute  of  the 
Supreme  Being,  inseparable  from  the  idea  of  God  :  adding,  how- 
ever, that  from  the  contemplation  of  law  in  this,  its  only  per- 
fect form,  must  be  derived  all  true  insight  into  all  other 
grounds  and  principles  necessary  to  Method,  as  the  science 
common  to  ail  sciences,  which  in  each  Tvy-^avsi  ov  ciXko  aur^  T^g 
k'XisriMc:.  Alienated  from  this  (intuition  shall  we  call  it  ?  or  sted- 
fast  faith?)  ingenious  men  may  produce  schemes,  conducive  to 
the  peculiar  purposes  of  particular  sciences,  but  no  scientific 
system. 

But  though  we  cannot  enter  on  the  proof  of  this  assertion, 
we  dare  not  remain  exposed  to  the  suspicion  of  having  obtruded 
a  mere  private  opinion,  as  a  fundamental  truth.  Our  authorities 
are  such  that  our  only  difficulty  is  occasioned  by  their  number. 


405 

The  following  extract  from  Aristocles  (preserved  with  other 
interesting  fragments  of  the  same  writer  by  Eusebius)  is  as  ex- 
plicit as  peremptory.  'E-:piko(jO'pri'fs  (>.3v  nXcc-wv,  ii  xai  ris  aXkos  TUv 
'!r6iiro-Sj  yv^a'iuic.  xal  -sXiv^g'  r.^ii  6s  f;.ig  6CvuCi^ai  <ra  dvSpojTua  y.a-TiShv  ^iJMe:^ 
SI  jtAij  T«  Stc-ra  'K»oTs^ov  oip'iisiri.  EusEB.  Praep.  Evan.  xi.  3.*  And 
Plato  himself  in  his  De  Republica,  happily  still  extant,  evident- 
ly alludes  to  the  same  doctrine.  For  personating  Socrates 
in  the  discussion  of  a  most  important  problem,  namely,  whe- 
ther political  justice  is  or  is  not  the  same  as  private  hones- 
ty, after  many  inductions,  and  much  analytic  reasoning,  he 
breaks  off  with  these  words — sh  y  '/cS^i,  w  FXauxwv,  us  'h  s^ri  ^o|a, 
AKPIBQ2  MEJy  TOTTO  'EK  TOIOTTON  MEGOAfiN,  0IAI2  NTN 
EN  T0I2  AOrOI2  XPfiMEGA,  OT  MHnOTE  AABfiMEN-  AAAA 
TAP  MAKPOTEPA  KAI  HAEIfiN  0a02  H  EHI  TOTTO  AEOT- 
5;Af — not  however,  he  adds,  precluding  the  former  (the  ana- 
lytic, and  inductive,  to  wit)  which  have  their  place  likewise, 
in  which  (but  as  subordinate  to  the  other)  they  are  both  use- 
ful and  requisite.  If  any  doubt  could  be  entertained  as  to  the 
purport  of  these  words,  it  would  be  removed  by  the  fact  stated 
by  Aristotle  in  his  Ethics,  that  Plato  had  discussed  the  prob- 
lem, whether  in  order  to  scientific  ends  we  must  set  out  from 
principles,  or  ascend  towards  them  :  in  other  words,  whether 
the  synthetic  or  analytic  be  the  right  method.  But  as  no  such 
question  is  directly  discussed  in  the  published  works  of  the 
great  master,  Aristotle  must  either  have  received  it  orally  from 
Plato  himself,  or  have  found  it  in  the  cy^acpa  Soyixara,  the  private 
text  book  or  manuals  constructed  by  his  select  disciples,  and 
intelligible  to  these  only  who  like  themselves  had  been  en- 
trusted with  the  esoteric  (interior  or  unveiled)  doctrines  of 
Platonism.     Comparing  this  therefore  with  the  writings,  which 


* {T^-ansIalion. — Plato,  who  pliiIo?o]>liized  legitimately  and  peifectively  if 
ever  any  man  did  in  any  age,  held  il  for  an  axiom,  that  it  is  not  possible  for  us 
to  have  an  insight  into  things  hunian  (i.  e.  the  nature  and  relations  of  man,  and 
the  objects  presented  by  nature  for  his  investigation,)  wit  hout  any  previous  con- 
templation (or  intellectual  vision)  of  things  divine :  that  is,  of  truths  that 
are  to  be  affirmed  concerning  the  absolute,  as  far  as  they  can  be  made  known 
to  us. 

f  (Translation). — Rut  know  well,  O  Glaucon,  as  my  firm  persuasion,  that 
by  such  methods,  as  Ave  have  hitherto  used  in  this  inquisition,  we  can  never 
attain  to  a  satisfactoiy  msight :  for  it  is  a  longer  and  ampler  way  that  con- 
ducts to  this. — Plato  De  republican  iv. 


406 

lie  held  it  safe  or  not  profane  to  make  public,  we  may  safely 
conclude,  that  Plato  considered  the  investigation  of  truth  a 
posteriori  as  that  which  is  employed  in  explaining  the  results 
of  a  more  scientific  process  to  those,  for  whom  the  knowledge 
of  the  results  was  alone  requisite  and  sufficient ;  or  in  prepa- 
ring the  mind  for  legitimate  method,  by  exposing  the  insuffi- 
ciency or  self-contradictions  of  the  proofs  and  results  obtained 
by  the  contrary  process.  Hence  theriefore  the  earnestness  with 
which  the  genuine  Platonists  opposed  the  doctrine  (that  all  de- 
monstration consisted  of  identical  propositions)  advanced  by 
Stilpo,  and  maintained  by  the  Megaric  school,  who  denied  the 
synthesis  and  as  Hume  and  others  in  recent  times,  held  geom- 
etry itself  to  be  merely  analytical. 

The  grand  problem,  the  solution  of  which  forms,  according 
to  Plato,  the  final  object  and  distinctive  character  of  philoso- 
phy is  this : /or  all  that  exists  conditionally  (i.  e.  the  exis- 
tence of  which  is  inconceivable  except  under  the  condition 
of  its  dependency  on  some  other  as  its  antecedent)  to  find  a 
ground  that  is  unconditional  and  absolute^  and  thereby  to  re- 
duce the  aggregate  of  human  knowledge  to  a  system.  For  the 
relation  common  to  all  being  known,  the  appropriate  orbit  of 
each  becomes  discoverable,  together  with  its  peculiar  relations 
to  its  concentrics  in  the  common  sphere  of  subordination. 
Thus  the  centrality  of  the  sun  having  been  established,  and 
the  law  of  the  distances  of  the  planets  from  the  sun  having 
been  determined,  we  possess  the  means  of  calculating  the  dis- 
tance of  each  from  the  other.  But  as  all  objects  of  sense  are 
in  continual  flux,  and  as  the  notices  of  them  by  the  senses 
must,  as  far  as  they  are  true  notices,  change  with  them,  while 
scientific  principles  (or  laws)  are  no  otherwise  principles  of 
science  than  as  they  are  permanent  and  always  the  same,  the 
latter  were  appointed  to  the  pure  reason,  either  as  its  products 
or  as  *  implanted  in  it.  And  now  the  remarkable  fact  forces 
itself  on  our  attention,  viz,  that  the  material   world  is  found  to 


*  Which  of  these  two  cioctrines  was  Plato's  own  oj)ininon,  it  is  hard  to  say. 
In  many  passages  of  liis  works,  ihe  latter  (i.  e.  the  doctrine  of  innate,  or  ra-. 
ther  of  connate,  ideas)  seems  to  \)e  it ;  but  from  the  cliaraeter  and  avowed 
purpose  of  these  works,  as  adressed  to  a  promiscuous  public,  and  therefore 
j)reparatory  and  for  the  discipline  of  the  mind  rather  than  directly  doctrinal, 
it  is  not  improbable  that  Plato  chose  it  as  the  more  popular  representation, 
and  as  belonging  to  the  poetic  dra[)eiy  of  his  Philosophemeta, 


407 

obey  the  same  laws  as  had  been  deduced  independently  from 
the  reason  :  and  that  the  masses  act  by  a  force,  which  cannot  be 
conceived  to  result  from  the  component  parts,  known  or  imagi- 
nable. In  the  phsenomena  of  magnetism,  electricity,  gal- 
vanism, and  in  chemistry  generally,  the  mind  is  led  instinctive- 
ly, as  it  were,  to  regard  the  working  powers  as  conducted, 
transmitted,  or  accumulated  by  the  sensible  bodies,  and  not  as 
inherent.  This  fact  has,  at  all  times,  been  the  strong  hold 
alike  of  the  materialists  and  of  the  spiritualists,  equally  solva- 
ble by  the  two  contrary  hypotheses,  and  fairly  solved  by  neither. 
In  the  clear  and  masterly*  review  of  the  elder  philosophies, 
which  must  be  ranked  among  the  most  splendid  proofs  of  judg- 
ment no  less  than  of  genius;  and  more  expressly  in  the  critique 
on  the  atomic  or  corpuscular  doctrine  of  Democritus  and  his 
followers  as  the  one  extreme,  and  that  of  the  pure  rationalism 
of  Zeno  and  the  Eleatic  school  as  the  other,  Plato  has  proved 


*  I  can  conceive  no  better  remedy  for  the  overweening  self-complacency  of 
of  modern  pliilosopliy,  tlian  the  anniiJnicni  of  its  pretended  originaHty.  The 
attempt  has  been  made  by  Duiens,  but  he  failed  in  it  by  flying  to  the  opposite 
extreme.  When  he  should  have  confined  himself  to  the  jjhilosophies^ 
he  extended  his  attack  to  the  sciences  and  even  to  the  main  discoveries  of 
later  times :  and  thus  instead  of  vindicating  the  ancients,  he  became  the  ca- 
lumniator of  the  moderns:  as  far  at  least  as  detraction  is  cakunny.  It  is  my 
intention  to  give  a  course  of  lectures  in  the  course  of  the  present  season,  com- 
prizing the  origin,  and  progress,  the  fates  and  fortunes  of  philosojjhy,  from 
Pythagoras  to  Locke  Avithjlhe  lives  and  succession  of  the  philosophers  in  each 
sect:  tracing  the  progress  of  speculative  science  chiefly  in  relation  to  the  gra- 
dual developnieiit  of  the  human  mind,  but  without  omitting  the  favoin-able  or 
inauspicious  influence  of  circumstances  and  the  accidentsof  individual  genius. 
The  main  divisions  will  be,  1.  From  Thales  and  Pythagoras  to  the  appear- 
ance of  the  Sophists.  2.  And  of  Socrates.  The  character  and  effects  of  So- 
crates' life  and  doctrines,  illustrated  in  the  instances  of  Xenophon,  as  his  most 
faithful  representative,  and  of  Antisihenes  or  the  Cynic  sect  as  the  one  par- 
tial view  of  his  philosophy,  and  of  Aristi|)i)us  or  the  Cyrenaic  sect  as  the  other 
and  opposite  extreme.  3.  Plato,  and  Platonism.  4,  Aristotle  and  the  Peri- 
patetic school.  5.  Zeno,  and  Stoicism,  Epicurus  and  Ejncurianism,  with  the 
effects  of  these  in  the  Roman  Rei>ul)lic  and  empire.  6.  The  rise  of  the 
Eclectic  or  Alexandrian  i)hilosophy,  the  attempt  to  set  up  a  pseudo-Platonic 
Polytheism  against  Christianity,  the  degradation  of  philosophy  itself  into  mys- 
ticism and  magic,  and  its  final  disappearance,  as  philosophy,  under  Justinian. 
7.  The  resumption  of  tlie  Aristutelian  philosojjhy  in  the  thiiteeiith  century, 
and  the  successive  re-a[)pearance  of  the  different  sects  from  the  restoration  of 
literature  to  our  own  times.     S.  T.  C. 


408 

incontrovertiblj,  that  in  both  alike  the  basis  is  too  narrow  to 
support  the  superstructure  ;  that  the  grounds  of  both  are  false 
or  disputable  ;  and  that,  if  these  were  conceded,  yet  neither  the 
one  nor  the  other  is  adequate  to  the  solution  of  the  problem  : 
viz.  what  is  the  ground  of  the  coincidence  between  reason  and 
experience  ?  Or  between  the  laws  of  matter  and  the  ideas  of 
the  pure  intellect  ?  The  only  answer  which  Plato  deemed  the 
question  capable  of  receiving,  compels  the  reason  to  pass  out  of 
itself  and  seek  the  ground  of  this  agreement  in  a  supersensual 
essence,  which  being  at  once  the  ideal  of  the  reason  and  the 
cause  of  the  material  world,  is  the  pre-establisher  of  the  har- 
mony in  and  between  both.  Religion  therefore  is  the  ultimate 
aim  of  philosophy,  in  consequence  of  which  philosophy  itself 
becomes  the  supplement  of  the  sciences,  both  as  the  con- 
vergence of  all  to  the  common  end,  namely,  wisdom  ;  and  as 
supplying  the  copula,  which  modified  in  each  in  the  comprehen- 
sion of  its  parts  to  one  whole,  is  in  its  principles  common  to  all, 
as  integral  parts  of  one  system.  And  this  is  Method,  itself  a 
distinct  science,  the  immediate  offspring  of  philosophy,  and  the 
link  or  mordant  by  which  philosophy  becomes  scientific  and  the 
sciences  philosophical. 

The  second  relation  is  that  of  Theory,  in  which  the  exist- 
ing forms  and  qualities  of  objects,  discovered  by  observation 
or  experiment,  suggest  a  given  arrangement,  of  many  under 
one  point  of  view  :  and  this  not  merely  or  principally  in  order 
to  facilitate  the  remembrance,  recollection,  or  communication 
of  the  same  ;  but  for  the  purposes  of  understanding,  and  in 
most  instances  of  controlling,  them.  In  other  words,  all  The- 
ory supposes  the  general  idea  of  cause  and  effect.  The  sci- 
entific arts  of  Medicine,  Chemistry,  and  Physiology  in  general, 
are  examples  of  a  method  hitherto  founded  on  this  second  sort 
of  relation. 

Between  these  two  lies  the  Method  in  the  Fine  Arts, 
which  belongs  indeed  to  this  second  or  external  relation,  be- 
cause the  effect  and  position  of  the  parts  is  always  more  or 
less  influenced  by  the  knowledge  and  experience  of  their  pre- 
vious qualities  ;  but  which  nevertheless  constitute  a  link  con- 
necting the  second  form  of  relation  with  the  first.  For  in  all, 
that  truly  merits  the  name  of  Poetry  in  its  most  comprehen- 
sive sense,  there  is  a  necessary  predominance  of  the  Ideas 
(i.  e.  of  that  which  originates  in  the  artist  himself,  and  a  com- 


409 

parative  indifference  of  the  materials.  A  true  musical  taste  is 
soon  dissatisfied  with  the  Harmonica,  or  any  similar  instrument 
of  glass  or  steel,  because  the  body  of  the  sound  (as  the  Ital- 
ians phrase  it),  or  that  effect  which  is  derived  from  the  mate- 
rials^ encroaches  too  far  on  the  effect  from  the  proportions  of 
the  notes,  or  that  which  is  given  to  Music  by  the  mind.  To 
prove  the  high  value  as  well  as  the  superior  dignity  of  the 
first  relation  ;  and  to  evince,  that  on  this  alone  a  perfect  Meth- 
od can  be  grounded,  and  that  the  Methods  attainable  by  the 
second  are  at  best  but  approximations  to  the  first,  or  tentative 
exercise  in  the  hope  of  discovering  it,  form  the  first  object  of 
the  present  disquisition. 

These  truths  we  have  (as  the  most  pleasing  and  popular 
mode  of  introducing  the  subject)  hitherto  illustrated  from 
Shakespeare.  But  the  same  truths,  namely  the  necessity  of  a 
mental  Initiative  to  all  Method,  as  well  as  a  careful  attention 
to  the  conduct  of  the  mind  in  the  exercise  of  Method  itself, 
may  be  equally,  and  here  perhaps  more  characteristically,  pro- 
ved from  the  most  familiar  of  the  Sciences.  We  may  draw 
our  elucidation  even  from  those  which  are  at  present  fashiona- 
ble among  us  :  from  Botany  or  from  Chemisty.  In  the  low- 
est attempt  at  a  methodical  arrangement  of  the  former  science, 
that  of  artificial  classification  for  the  preparatory  purpose  of  a 
nomenclature,  some  antecedent  must  have  been  contributed  by 
the  mind  itself;  some  purpose  must  have  been  in  view ;  or 
some  question  at  least  must  have  been  proposed  to  nature, 
grounded,  as  all  questions  are,  upon  some  idea  of  the  answer. 
As  for  instacce,  the  assumption, 

"  That  two  great  sexes  animate  the  world." 

For  no  man  can  confidently  conceive  a  fact  to  be  universally 
true  who  does  not  with  equal  confidence  anticipate  its  necessity^ 
and  who  does  not  believe  that  necessity  to  be  demonstrable  by 
an  insight  into  its  nature,  whenever  and  wherever  such  insight 
can  be  obtained.  We  acknowledge,  we  reverence  the  obliga- 
tions of  Botany  to  Linnaeus,  who,  adopting  from  Bartholinus 
and  others  the  sexuality  of  plants,  grounded  thereon  a  scheme  of 
classific  and  distinctive  marks,  by  which  one  man's  experience 
may  be  communicated  to  others,  and  the  objects  safely  reasoned 
on  while  absent,  and  recognized  as  soon  as  and  whenever  they 
are  met  with.  He  invented  an  universal  character  for  the  lan- 
52 


410 

guage  of  Botany  chargeable  with  no  greater  imperfections  thai) 
are  to  be  found  in  the  alphabets  of  every  particular  language. 
As  for  the  study  of  the  ancients,  so  of  the  works  of  nature,  an 
accidence  and  a  dictionary  are  the  first  and  indispensable  requi- 
sites :  and  to  the  illustrious  Swede,  Botany  is  indebted  for  both. 
But  neither  v/as  the  central  idea  of  vegetation  itself,  by  the 
light  of  which  we  might  have  seen  the  collateral  relations  of  the 
vegetable  to  the  inorganic  and  to  the  animal  world  ;  nor  the 
constitutive  nature  and  inner  necessity  of  sex  itself,  revealed 
to  Linneeus.*     Hence,  as  in  all  other  cases  where  the  master- 


*  The  word  Nature  has  been  used  in  two  senses,  viz.  actively  and  pas- 
sively ;  enci-getic  (=rfonna  forinans),  and  material  (^forma  forsn.ata).  In  the 
first  (the  sense  in  which  the  word  is  used  in  the  text)  it  signifies  the  inward 
})rinciple  of  whatever  is  requisite  fi)r  the  reality  of  a  thing,  as  existent :  while 
the  essence,  or  essentia!  property,  signifies  tJie  inner  principle  of  all  that  ap- 
pertains to  the  possibUilj  of  a  thing.  Hence,  in  accurate  language  we  say  the 
essence  of  a  maiheiuatica'  cii-t*le  or  other  geometrical  figure,  not  the  nature  : 
because  in  the  conception  of  forms  purely  geometrical  there  is  no  expression 
or  implication  of  their  real  existence.  In  the  second,  or  material  sense,  of 
the  word  Nature,  we  mean  by  it  the  sum  total  of  all  things,  as  far  as  they  are 
objects  of  our  senses,  and  consequently  of  possible  experience — the  aggre- 
gate of  plieenomena,  whether  existing  for  our  outward  senses,  or  for  our 
inner  sense.  The  doctriiiC  concerning  material  nature  Avould  therefoi-e  (the 
word  Physiology  being  ijoth  ambiguous  in  itself,  and  already  otherwise  aj)- 
propriatedj  be  more  properly  entitled  Pheenomenology,  distinguished  into  its 
two  grand  divisions,  Somatalogy  and  Psychology.  The  doctrine  concerning 
enei'getic  nature  is  comprised  in  the  science  of  Dvivamics  ;  the  union  of  which 
with  Phffijiomenology,  and  the  alliance  of  both  witii  the  sciences  of  the  Pos- 
sible, or  of  the  Conceivable,  viz.  Logic  and  Mathematics,  constitute  Natural 
Philosophy. 

Ha\  ing  thus  explained  the  term  Nature,  we  now  more  especially  entreat 
the  reader's  attention  to  the  sense,  in  whicl)  here,  and  every  where  through 
this  Essay,  we  use  the  word  Idea.  We  assert,  that  the  very  impulse  to  uni- 
versalize any  j)luenomcno.i  involves  the  prior  assumption  of  sonje  efiicient 
law  in  nature,  which  in  a  thousand  different  forms  is  everuiore-  one  and  the 
same;  culn-c  in  each,  j'et  com])rehending  all ;  and  incapable  of  being  abstract- 
ed or  generalized  from  any  number  of  pliEenomena,  because  it  is  itself  pre- 
supposed in  each  and  all  as  their  common  ground  and  condition  ;  and  because 
every  definition  of  a  genus  is  the  adequate  definition  of  the  lowest  species 
alone,  while  the  efiicient  law  must  contain  the  ground  of  all  in  all.  It  is  altr'i- 
bufed,  nexQV  derived.  Tlie  utmost  we  ever  venture  to  say  is,  that  the  fulling 
of  an  api)lc  suggested  th(!  law  of  gravitation  to  Sir  I.  Newton.  Now  a  law  and 
an  idea  are  correlative  terms,  and  difl;er  only  as  object  and  subject,  as  being 
and  truth. 

Such  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Novum  Organum  of  Lord  Bacon,  agreeing 


411 

light  is  missing,  so  in  this  :  the  reflective  mind  avoids  Scylla 
only  to  lose  itself  on  Chaiybdis.  If  we  adhere  to  the  general 
notion  af  sex,  as  abstracted  from  the  more  obvious  modes  and 
forms  in  which  the  sexual  relation  manifests  itself,  we  soon  meet 
with  whole  classes  of  plants  to  which  it  is  found  inapplicable. 
If  arbitrarily,  we  give  it  inhnite  extension,  it  is  dissipated  into 
the  barren  truism,  that  all  specific  products  suppose  specific 
means  of  production. 


(as  we  shall  more  largely  show  in  the  text)  in  all  essential  points  with  the  tiiie 
doctrine  of  PJato,  the  apparent  diftcrences  being  for  the  greater  part  occasion- 
ed by  the  Grecian  sage  having  ap})lied  his  principles  chiefly  to  the  investiga- 
tion of  the  mind,  and  the  method  of  evolving  its  powers,  and  the  English 
philoso])her  to  the  devlopement  of  nature.  Tiiat  our  great  countryman  speaks 
too  often  detractingly  of  the  divine  philosopher  mus!;  be  explained,  partly  by 
the  tone  given  to  thinking  minds  by  the  Reformation,  tlie  founders  and  fathers 
of  which  saw  in  the  Aristotelians,  or  schoolmen,  tlie  antagonists  of  Protestant- 
ism, .and  in  the  Italian  Platonists  the  despisers  and  secret  enemies  of  Christi- 
anity itself;  and  partly,  by  his  having  formed  his  notions  of  Plato's  doctrines 
from  the  absurdities  and  phantasms  of  his  misinterpreters,  rather  than  from 
an  unprejudiced  study  of  the  original  works. 


ES8AY  VI. 


Seeking  the  reason  of  all  things  from  without,  they  preclude  reason. 

Theoph.  in  Mel. 


Thus  a  growth  and  a  birth  are  distinguished  by  the  mere 
verbal  definition,  that  the  latter  is  a  whole  in  itself,  the  former 
not  :  and  when  we  would  apply  even  this  to  nature,  we  are 
baffled  by  objects  (the  flower  polypus,  &c.  &c.)  in  which  each 
is  the  other.  All  that  can  be  done  by  the  most  patient  and  ac- 
tive industry,  by  the  widest  and  most  continuous  researches  ; 
all  that  the  amplest  survey  of  the  vegetable  realm,  brought  un- 
der immediate  contemplation  by  the  most  stupendous  collections 
of  species  and  varieties,  can  suggest  ;  all  that  minutest  dissec- 
tion and  exactest  chemical  analysis,  can  unfold  ;  all  that  varied 
experiment  and  the  position  of  plants  and  of  their  component 
parts  in  every  conceivable  relation  to  light,  heat,  (and  what- 
ever else  we  distinguish  as  imponderable  substances)  to  earth, 
air,  water,  to  the  supposed  constituents  of  air  and  water,  sepa- 
rate and  in  all  proportions — in  short  all  that  chemical  agents 
and  re-agents  can  disclose  or  adduce  ; — all  these  have  been 
brought,  as  conscripts,  into  the  field,  with  the  completest  accou- 
trement, in  the  best  discipline,  under  the  ablest  commanders. 
Yet  after  all  that  was  eff'ected  by  Linnaeus  himself,  not  to  men- 
tion the  labours  of  Caesalpinus,  Ray,  Gesner,  Tournefort,  and 
the  other  heroes  who  preceded  the  general  adoption  of  the 
sexual  system,  as  the  basis  of  artificial  arrangement — after  all 
the  successive  toils  and  enterprises  of  Hedwig,  Jussieu,  Mir- 
BEL,  Smith,  Knight,  Ellis,  &c.  &c. — what  is  Botany  at  this 
present  hour  ?  Little  more  than  an  enormous  nomenclature  ; 
a  huge  catalogue,  Men  arrange,  yearly  and  monthly  augmented, 


413 

in  various  editions,  each  with  its  own  scheme  of  technical  me- 
mory and  its  own  conveniences  of  reference  !  A  dictionary 
in  which  (to  carry  on  the  metaphor)  an  Ainsworth  arranges 
the  contents  by  the  initials  ;  a  Walker  by  the  endings  ;  a  Sca- 
pula by  the  radicals  ;  and  a  Cominius  by  the  similarity  of  the 
uses  and  purposes  !  The  terms  system,  method,  science,  are  mere 
improprieties  of  courtesy,  when  applied  to  a  mass  enlarging  by 
endless  oppositions,  but  without  a  nerve  that  oscillates,  or  a 
pulse  that  throbs,  in  sign  o{  growth  or  inward  sympathy.  The 
innocent  amusement,  the  healthful  occupation,  the  ornamental 
accomplishment  of  amateurs  (most  honorable  indeed  and  de- 
serving of  all  praise  as  a  preventive  substitute  for  the  stall,  the 
kennel,  and  the  subscription-room),  it  has  yet  to  expect  the 
devotion  and  energies  of  the  philosopher. 

So  long  back  as  the  first  appearance  of  Dr.  Darwin's  Phy- 
tonomia,  the  writer,  then  in  earliest  manhood,  presumed  to  ha- 
zard the  opinion,  that  the  physiological  botanists  were  hunting 
in  a  false  direction  ;  and  sought  for  analogy  where  they  should 
have  looked  for  antithesis.  He  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  that 
the  harmony  between  the  vegetable  and  animal  world,  was  not 
a  harmony  of  resemblance,  but  of  contrast ;  and  their  relation 
to  each  other  that  of  corresponding  opposites.  They  seemed 
to  him  (whose  mind  had  been  formed  by  observation,  unaided, 
but  at  the  same  time  unenthralled,  by  partial  experiment)  as 
two  streams  from  the  same  fountain  indeed,  but  flowing  the  one 
due  west,  and  the  other  direct  east ;  and  that  consequently, 
the  resemblance  would  be  as  the  proximity,  greatest  in  the 
first  and  rudimental  products  of  vegetable  and  animal  organiza- 
tion. Whereas,  according  to  the  received  notion,  the  highest 
and  most  perfect  vegetable,  and  the  lowest  and  rudest  animal 
forms,  ought  to  have  seemed  the  links  of  the  two  systems, 
which  is  contrary  to  fact.  Since  that  time,  the  same  idea  has 
dawned  in  the  minds  of  philosophers  capable  of  demonstrating 
its  objective  truth  by  induction  of  facts  in  an  unbroken  series 
of  correspondences  in  nature.  From  these  men,  or  from  minds 
enkindled  by  their  labors,  we  hope  hereafter  to  receive  it,  or 
rather  the  yet  higher  idea  to  which  it  refers  us,  matured  into 
laws  of  organic  nature ;  and  thence  to  have  one  other  splendid 
proof,  that  with  the  knowledge  of  Law  alone  dwell  Power 
and  Prophesy,  decisive  Experiment,  and,  lastly,  a  scientific 
method,  that  dissipating  with   its  earliest  rays  the  gnomes  of 


414 

hypothesis  and  the  mists  of  theory  may,  within  a  single  gener- 
ation, open  out  on  the  philosophic  Seer  discoveries  that  had 
baffled  the  gigantic,  but  blind  and  giiideless  industry  of  ages. 

Such,  too,  is  the  case  with  the  assumed  indecomponible  sub- 
stances of  the    Laboratory.     They  are   the   symbols   of  ele- 
mentary powers  and  the  exponents  of  a  law,  which,  as  the  root 
of  all   these   powers,  the    chemical  philosopher,  whatever  his 
theory  may  be,  is   instinctively  laboring  to  extract.     This   in- 
stinct,   again,  is  itself  but  the  form,    in  which   the  idea,    the 
mental  Correlative  of  the  law,  first  announces  its  incipient  ger- 
mination in  his  own  mind:   and  hence  proceeds  the  striving  af- 
ter unity  of  principle  through  all  the  diversity  of  forms,  with  a 
feeling  resembling  that  which  accompanies  our  endeavours  to 
reccoUect  a  forgotten   name  ;   when  we   seem  at  once  to  have 
and  not   to  have  it;    which  the  memory  feels   but  cannot  find. 
Thus,  as    "  the  lunatic,  the  lover,  and  the  poet,"   suggest  each 
other  to  Shakespeare's    Theseus,  as  soon  as  his  thoughts  pre- 
sent him  the  one  form,  of  which   they  are   but   varieties ;    so 
water  and  flame,  the  diamond,  the  charcoal,  and  the  mantling 
champagne,  with  its  ebullient  sparkles,  are  convoked  and  fra- 
ternized by  the  theory  of  the  chemist.     This  is,  in  truth,  the 
first  charm  of  chemistry,  and   the  secret  of  the  almost  univer- 
sal interest  excited    by  its    discoveries.     The  serious  compla- 
cency which  is  afforded  by  the   sense  of  truth,  utility,  perma- 
nence, and  progression,  blends  with  and  enobles  the  exhilira- 
ting  suiprize  and  the  pleasurable  sting  of  curiosity,  which  ac- 
company the  propounding  and  the  solving  of  an  Enigma.     It  is 
the  sense  of  a  principle  of  connection  given  by  the  mind,  and 
sanctioned  by  the  correspondency  of  nature.     Hence  the  strong 
-  hold  which   in  all  ages  chemistry  has  had  on  the   imagination. 
If  in  Shakespeare  v.e  find  nature  idealized  into  poetry,  through 
the  creative  power  of  a  profound  yet  observant  meditation,  so 
through  the  meditative  observation  of  a  Davy,  a  Woollas- 
TON,  or  a  Hatchett  ; 

-"  By  some  connatural  force, 


Powerful  at  greatest  distance  to  unite 
With  secret  amity  things  of  hke  kind," 

we  find  poetry,  as  it  were,  substantiated  and  realized  in  nature: 
yea,  nature  itself  disclosed  to  us,  geminam  islam  naturam^ 
qu(B  flit  et  facit^  et  creat  et  creature  as  at  once  the  poet  and 
the  poem! 


ESSAY    VII. 


(Translation.) — In  the  following  then  I  distinguish,  fost,  those  whom  you  in- 
deed may  call  Philotlieorists,  or  Philotechnists,  or  Practicians,  and  se- 
condly those  whom  alone  you  may  rightly  denominate  Philosophers,  as 
knowing  what  the  science  of  all  these  branches  of  science  is,  which  may 
prove  to  be  something  more  than  the  mere  aggregate  of  the  knowledges 
in  any  particular  science. — Plato. 


From  Shakspeare  to  Plato,  from  the  philosophic  poet  to  the 
poetic  philosopher,  the  transition  is  easy,  and  the  road  is  crowd- 
ed with  illustrations  of  our  present  subject.  For  of  Plato's 
works,  the  larger  and  more  valuable  portion  have  all  one  com- 
mon end,  which  comprehends  and  shines  through  the  particular 
purpose  of  each  several  dialogue  ;  and  this  is  to  establish  the  ^ 
sources,  to  evolve  the  principles,  and  exemplify  the  art  of  Me-  ^ 
THOD.  This  is  the  clue,  without  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  / 
to  exculpate  the  noblest  productions  of  the  divine  philosopher 
from  the  charge  of  being  tortuous  and  labyrinthine  in  their  pro- 
gress, and  unsatisfactory  in  their  ostensible  results.  The  latter 
indeed  appear  not  seldom  to  have  been  drawn  for  the  purpose 
of  starting  a  new  problem,  rather  than  that  of  solving  the  one 
proposed  as  the  subject  of  the  previous  discussion.  But  with 
the  clear  insight  that  the  purpose  of  the  v/riter  is  not  so  much 
to  establish  any  particular  truth,  as  to  remove  the  obstacles,  the 
continuance  of  which  is  preclusive  of  all  truth;  the  whole 
scheme  assumes  a  different  aspect,  and  justifies  itself  in  ail  its 
dimensions.     We  see,  that  to  open  anew  a  v.-ell  of  springing 


416 

water,  not  to  cleanse  the  stagnant  tank,  or  fill,  bucket  by  buck- 
et, the  leaden  cistern ;  that  the  Education  of  the  intellect,  by 
awakening  the  principle  and  method  of  self-developement,  was 
his  proposed  object,  not  any  specific  information  that  can  be 
conveyed  in  it  from  without :  not  to  assist  in  storing  the  passive 
mind  with  the  various  sorts  of  knowledge  most  in  request,  as  if 
the  human  soul  were  a  mere  repository  or  banqueting-room,  but 
to  place  it  in  such  relations  of  circumstance  as  should  gradually 
excite  the  germinal  power  that  craves  no  knowledge  but  what 
it  can  take  up  into  itself,  what  it  can  appropriate,  and  re-pro- 
duce in  fruits  of  its  own.  To  shape,  to  dye,  to  paint  over,  and 
to  mechanize  the  mind,  he  resigned,  as  their  proper  trade,  to 
the  sophists,  against  whom  he  waged  open  and  unremitting  war. 
For  the  ancients,  as  well  as  the  moderns,  had  their  machinery 
for  the  extemporaneous  mintage  of  intellects,  by  means  of 
which,  off-hand,  as  it  were,  the  scholar  was  enabled  to  make  a 
figure  on  any  and  all  subjects,  on  any  and  all  occasions.  They 
too  had  their  glittering  vapors,  that  (as  the  comic  poet  tells  us) 
fed  a  host  of  sophists — 

/usyaXai,  S^eai  avSqa  criv  a'Qyotg 
A'l'nEQ  yi'co/iiijv  xal  dtu'Xe^t.i'  xal  vov  v  if  fAiv  Ttugs/ovcrir, 
li-ttl  xBQajiiuv    zul  TiSQile^iv   xul  ngov'aiv  xal  xaTa'hjxpiv. 
V  API^TOlJ.  Neq).  Sn.  d. 


IMITATED. 

Great  goddesses  are  they  to  lazy  folks, 
Who  pour  down  on  us  gifts  of  fluent  speech, 
Sense  most  sententious,  wonderful  fine  effect, 
And  how  to  talk  ahout  it  and  about  it, 
Thoughts  brisk  as  bees,  and  pathos  soft  and  thawy. 

In  fine,  as  improgressive  arrangement  is  not  Method,  so  nei- 
ther is  a  mere  mode  or  set  fashion  of  doing  a  thing.  Are  fur- 
ther facts  required  ?  We  appeal  to  the  notorious  fact  that 
Zoology,  soon  after  the  commencement  of  the  latter  half  of 
the  last  century,  was  falling  abroad,  weighed  down  and  crush- 
ed, as  it  were,  by  the  inordinate  number  and  manifoldness  of 
facts  and  phsenomena  apparently  separate,  without  evincing  the 
least  promise  of  systematizing  itself  by  any  inward  combination, 
any  vital  interdependence  of  its  partsi  John  Hunter,  who 
appeared  at  times  almost  a  stranger  to  the  grand  conception, 
which  yet  never  ceased  to  work  in  him  as  his  genius  and  go- 


417 

Ternfng  spirit,  rose  at  length  in  the  horizon  of  physiology  and 
comparative  anatomy.  In  his  printed  works,  the  one  directing 
thought  seems  evermore  to  flit  before  him,  twice  or  thrice  on- 
ly to  have  been  seized,  and  after  a  momentary  detention  to 
have  been  again  let  go :  as  if  the  words  of  the  charm  had  been 
incomplete,  and  it  had  appeared  at  its  own  will  only  to  mock 
its  calling.  At  length,  in  the  astonishing  preparations  for  his 
museum,  he  constructed  it  for  the  scientific  apprehension  out 
of  the  unspoken  alphabet  of  nature.  Yet  notwithstanding  the 
imperfection  in  the  annunciation  of  the  idea,  how  exhilarating 
have  been  the  results  !  We  dare  appeal  to*  Abernethy,  to 
EvERARD  Home,  to  Hatchett,  whose  communication  to  Sir 
Everard  on  the  egg  and  its  analogies,  in  a  recent  paper  of  the 
latter  (itself  of  high  excellence)  in  the  Philosophical  Trans- 
actions, we  point  out  as  being,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term, 
the  development  of  a  fact  in  the  history  of  physiology,  and  to 
which  we  refer  as  exhibiting  a  luminous  instance  of  what  we 
mean  by  the  discovery  of  a  central  phenomenon.  To  these 
we  appeal,  whether  whatever  is  grandest  in  the  views  of  Cu- 
viER  be  not  either  a  reflection  of  this  light  or  a  continuation  of 
its  rays,  well  and  wisely  directed  throngh  fit  media  to  its  ap- 
propriate object,  f 

We  have  seen  that  a  previous  act  and  conception  of  the  mind 
is  indispensable  even  to  the  mere  semblances  of  Method  ;  that 
neither  fashion,  mode,  nor  orderly  arrangement  can  be  produc- 
ed without  a  prior  purpose,  and  "  a  pre-cogitation  ad  intentio- 
nem  ejus  quod  queer itur^''''  though  this  purpose  may  have  been  it- 

*  Since  the  first  delivery  of  this  sheet,  Mr.  Aberaethy  has  realized  this  an- 
ticipation, dictated  solely  by  the  writer's  wishes,  and  at  that  time  justified  on- 
ly by  his  general  admiration  of  Mr.  A's  talents  and  princijjles  ;  but  composed 
without  the  least  knowledge  that  lie  was  then  actually  engaged  in  proving 
the  assertion  here  hazarded,  at  large  and  in  detail.  See  his  eminent  "Phy- 
siological Lectures,"   lately  published  in  one  volume  octavo. 

f  Nor  should  it  be  wholly  unnoticed,  that  Cuvier,  who,  we  understand,  was 
not  born  in  Fraiice,  and  is  not  of  uaniixcd  French  extraction,  had  prepared 
himself  for  his  illustrious  labors  (as  we  learn  from  a  reference  in  the  first 
chapter  of  his  great  work,  and  should  have  concluded  from  the  general  style 
of  thinking,  though  the  language  betrays  suppression,  as  one  who  doubted 
the  symi)athy  of  his  readers  or  audience)  in  a  very  diflereut  school  of  nietbo 
dology  and  philosophy  than  Paris  cmild  have  afforded. 

63 


418 

self  excited,  and  this  "  pre-cogitation"  itself  abstracted  from  the 
perceived  likenesses  and  differences  of  the  objects  to  be  arrang- 
ed.    But  it  has  likewise  been  shown,  that  fashion,  mode,  or- 
donnance,  are  not  Method,  inasmuch  as  all  Method  supposes  a 
PRINCIPLE  OF  UNITY  WITH  PROGRESSION  ;  iu  othor  words,  pro- 
gressive transition    without  breach  of  continuity.     But   such  a 
principle,  it  has  been  proved,  can  never  in  the  sciences  of  ex- 
periment or  in  those  of  observation  be  adequately  supplied  by 
a  theory  built  on  generalization.     For  what  shall  determine  the 
mind  to  abstract  and  generalize  one  common  point  rather  than 
another  ?  and  within  what  limits,  from  what  number  of  indivi- 
dual objects,   shall  the   generalization   be  made  ?    The  theory 
must  still  require  a  prior  theory  for  its  own  legitimate  construc- 
tion.    With  the  mathematician  the  definition  makes  the  object, 
and  pre-establishes  the  terms  which,  and  which  alone,  can  oc- 
cur in  the  after-reasoning.     If  a  circle  be  found  not  to  have  the 
radii  from  the  centre  to  the  circumference  perfectly  equal,  which 
in  fact  it  would  be  absurd  to  expect  of  any  material  circle,  it  fol- 
lows that  it  was  not  a  circle  :  and  the  tranquil  geometrician  would 
content  himself  with  smiling  at  the  Quid  pro  Quo  of  the  simple 
objector.     A  mathematical  theoria  seu  contemplatio  may  there- 
fore be  perfect.     For  the  mathematician  can  be  certain,  that  he 
has  contemplated  all  that  appertains  to  his  proposition.     The  ce- 
lebrated EuLEK,  treating  on  some  point  respecting  arches,  makes 
this  curious  remark,  "  All  experience  is  in  contradiction  to  this  ; 
sed  potius  fidendum  est  analysi  ;  i.  e.  but  this  is  no  reason  for 
doubting  the  analysis."     The  words  sound  paradoxical  ;  but  in 
truth  mean  no  more  than  this,  that  the  properties  of  space  are  not 
less  certainly  the  properties  of  space  because  they  can  never  be 
entirely  transferred  to  material  bodies.    But  in  physics,  that  is,  in 
all  the  sciences  which  have  for  their  objects  the  things  of  nature, 
and  not  the  entia  rationis — more  philosophically,  intellectual  acts 
and  the  products  of  those  acts,  existing  exclusively  in  and  for 
the  intellect  itself — the  definition   must  follow,  and  not  precede 
the  reasoning.     It  is  representative  not  constitutive,  and  is  in- 
deed little  more  than  an  abbreviature  of  the  preceding  obser- 
vation, and  the  deductions  therefrom.     But  as  the  observation 
though  aided  by  experiment,  is  necessarily  limited  and  imper- 
fect, the  definition  must  be  equally  so.     The  history  of  theories, 


419 

and  the  frequency  of  their  subversion  bj  the  discovery  of  a  single 
new  fact,  supply  the  best  illustrations  of  this  truth.* 

As  little  can  a  true  scientific  method  be  grounded  on  an  hy- 
pothesis, unless  where  the  hypothesis  is  an  exponential  image 
or  picture-language  of  an  idea  which  is  contained  in  it  more  or 
less  clearly  ;  or  the  symbol  of  an  undiscovered  law,  like  the 
characters  of  unknown  quantities  in  algebra,  for  the  purpose  of 
submitting  the  phaenomena  to  a  scientific  calculus.  In  all  other 
instances,  it  is  itself  a  real  or  supposed  phgenomenon,  and  there- 
fore a  part  of  the  problem  which  it  is  to  solve.  It  may  be 
among  the  foundation-stones  of  the  edifice,  but  can  never  be 
the  ground. 

But  in  experimental  philosophy,  it  may  be  said  how  much  do 
we  not  owe  to  accident  ?  Doubtless  :  but  let  it  not  be  for- 
gotten, that  if  the  discoveries  so  made   stop   there  ;  if  they  do 


*  The  following  extract  from  a  most  respectable  scientific  Journal  contains 
an  exposition  of  the  impossibility  of  a  perfect  Theoiy  in  Physics,  the  more 
striking  because  it  is  directly  against  the  purpose  and  intention  of  the  writer. 
We  content  ourselves  with  one  qnestion,  What  if  Kepler,  what  if  Newton 
in  his  investigations  concerning  the  Tides,  had  held  themselves  bound  to  this 
canon,  and  instead  of  propounding  a  law,  had  employed  themselves  exclu- 
sively in  collecting  materials  for  a  Theory? 

"  The  magnetic  influence  has  long  been  known  to  have  a  variation  which 
is  constantly  changing ;  but  that  change  is  so  slow,  and  at  the  same  time  so 
different  in  various  (different"))  parts  of  the  world,  that  it  v.'ould  be  in  vain  to 
seek  for  the  r^eans  of  reducing  it  to  established  rules,  until  all  its  local  and 
pEirticular  cin  amstances  are  clearly  ascertained  and  recorded  by  accurate  ob- 
servations made  in  various  parts  of  the  globe.  The  necessity  and  importance 
of  such  observations  are  now  pretty  generally  understood,  and  they  have  been 
actually  caiTying  on  for  some  years  past ;  but  these  [and  by  pcuity  of  reason  the 
incomparably  greater  number  that  remain  to  be  made)  must  be  collected,  collated, 
proved,  and  afterwards  brought  together  into  one  focus  before  ever  a  founda- 
tion can  be  formed  upon  which  any  thing  like  a  sound  and  stable  Theory  can 
be  constituted  for  the  explanation  of  such  changes." — Journal  of  Science  and 
the  Arts,  No,  vii.  p.  103. 

An  intelligent  friend,  on  reading  the  words  "  into  one  focus,"  observed : 
But  what  and  where  is  the  lens  ?  I  however  fully  agree  with  the  writer.  All 
this  and  much  more  must  have  been  atchievcd  before  "  a  sound  and  stable 
Theory"  could  be  "  constituted'' — which  even  then  (except  as  far  as  it  might 
occasion  the  discovery  of  a  law)  might  possibly  explain  (  ex  plicis^faHa  red- 
dere\  but  never  account  for,  the  facts  in  question.  But  the  most  satisfactory 
comment  on  these  and  similar  assertions  would  be  afforded  by  a  malter  of 
fact  history  of  the  rise  and  progress,  the  accelerating  and  retarding  momenta, 
of  science  in  the  civilizefl  world. 


420 

not  excite  to  some  master  idea  ;  if  they  do  not  lead  to  some 
LAW  (in  what  ever  dress  of  theory  or  hypotheses  the  fashion 
and  prejudices  of  the  time  may  disguise  or  disfigure  it:)  the 
discoveries  may  remain  for  ages  limited  in  their  uses,  insecure 
and  unproductive.  How  many  centuries,  we  might  have  said 
millennia,  have  passed,  since  the  first  accidental  discovery  of 
the  attraction  and  repulsion  of  light  bodies  by  rubbed  amber, 
&c.  Compare  the  interval  with  the  progress  made  within  less 
than  a  century,  after  the  discovery  of  the  phsenomena  that  led 
immediately  to  a  theory  of  electricity.  That  here  as  in  many 
other  instances,  the  theory  was  supported  by  insecure  hypothe- 
ses ;  that  by  one  theorist  two  heterogeneous  fluids  are  assumed, 
the  vitreous  and  the  resinous  ;  by  another,  a  plus  and  minus  of 
the  same  fluid  ;  that  a  third  considers  it  a  mere  modification  of 
light ;  while  a  fourth  composes  the  electrical  aura  of  oxygen, 
hydrogen,  and  caloric  :  this  does  but  place  the  truth  we  have 
been  evolving  in  a  stronger  and  clearer  light.  For  abstract 
from  all  these  suppositions,  or  rather  imaginations,  that  which 
is  common  to,  and  involved  in  them  all ;  and  we  shall  have  nei- 
ther notional  fluid  or  fluids,  nor  chemical  compounds,  nor  ele- 
mentary matter, — but  the  idea  of  two — opposite— forces,  tend- 
ing to  rest  by  equilibrium.  These  are  the  sole  factors  of  the 
calculus,  alike  in  all  the  theories.  These  give  the  law,  and 
in  it  the  method,  both  of  arranging  the  phBenomena  and  of  sub- 
stantiating appearances  into  facts  of  science  ;  with  a  success 
proportionate  to  the  clearness  or  confusedness  oC'  the  insight 
into  the  law.  P'or  this  reason,  we  anticipate  the  greatest  im- 
provements in  the  method,  the  nearest  approaches  to  a  system 
of  electricity  from  these  philosophers,  who  have  presented  the 
law  most  purely,  and  the  correlative  idea  as  an  idea  :  those, 
namely,  who,  since  the  year  1798,  in  the  true  spirit  of  experi- 
mental dynamics,  rejecting  the  imagination  of  any  material  sub- 
strate, simple  or  compound,  contemplate  in  the  phaenomena  of 
electricity  the  operation  of  a  law  which  reigns  through  all  na- 
ture, the  law  of  polarity,  or  the  manifestation  of  one  pow- 
er by  opposite  forces  :  who  trace  in  these  appearances,  as  the 
most  obvious  and  striking  of  its  innumerable  forms,  the  agency 
of  the  positive  and  negative  poles  of  a  power  essential  to  all 
material  construction  ;  the  second,  namely,  of  the  three  prima- 
ry principles,  for  which  the  beautiful  and  most  appropriate  sym- 
bols are  given  by  the  mind  in  three  ideal  dimensions  of  space. 


421 

The  time  is,  perhaps,  nigh  at  hand,  when  the  same  compari- 
son between  tlie  results  of  two  unequal  periods  ;  the  interval  be- 
tween the  knowledge  of  a  fact,  and  that  from  the  discovery  of 
the  law,  will  be  applicable  to  the  sister  science  of  magnetism. 
But  how  great  the  contrast  between  magnetism  and  electricity, 
at  the  present  moment !  From  the  remotest  antiquity,  the  attrac- 
tion of  iron  by  the  magnet  was  known  and  noticed  ;  but  cen- 
tury after  century,  it  remained  the  undisturbed  property  of 
poets  and  orators.  The  fact  of  the  magnet  and  the  fable  of 
phoenix  stood  on  the  same  scale  of  utility.  In  the  thirteenth 
century,  or  perhaps  earlier,  the  polarity  of  the  magnet  and  its 
communicability  to  iron  was  discovered ;  and  soon  suggested  a 
purpose  so  grand  and  important,  that  it  may  well  be  deemed 
the  proudest  trophy  ever  raised  by  accident  *  in  the  service  of 
mankind — the  invention  of  the  compass.  But  it  led  to  no  idea, 
to  no  law,  and  consequently  to  no  Method  :  though  a  variety  of 
phsenomena,  as  startling  as  they  are  mysterious,  have  forced  on 
us  a  presentiment  of  its  intimate  connection  with  all  the  great 
agencies  of  nature  ;  of  a  revelation,  in  ciphers,  the  key  to 
which  is  still  wanting.  We  can  recall  no  incident  of  human 
history  that  impresses  the  imagination  more  deeply  than  the 
moment  when  Columbus, f  on  an  unknown  ocean,  first  perceiv- 

*  If  accident  it  were :  if  the  compass  did  not  obscurely  travel  to  us  from 
the  remotest  east :  if  its  existence  there  does  not  point  to  an  age  and  a  race, 
to  which  scholars  of  highest  rank  in  the  world  of  letters,  Sir  W.  Jones, 
Bailly,  Schlegel  have  attached  faith  !  That  it  was  known  before  the  sera  gen- 
eially  assumed  for  its  invention,  and  not  spoken  of  as  a  novelty,  has  been 
proved  by  Mr.  Southey  and  others. 

f  It  cannot  be  deemed  alien  fi-om  the  purposes  of  this  disquisition,  if  we 
are  anxious  to  attract  the  attention  of  our  readers  to  the  importance  of  spe- 
culative meditation,  even  for  tire  worldly  interests  of  mankind  ;  and  to  that 
concurrence  of  nature  and  historic  event  with  the  great  revolutionary  move- 
ments of  individual  genius,  of  which  so  many  instances  occur  in  the  study 
of  History— how  nature  (why  should  we  hesitate  in  saying,  that  which  in 
nature  itself  is  more  than  nature  ?)  seems  to  come  forward  in  order  to  meet, 
to  aid,  and  to  reward  every  idea  excited  by  a  contemplation  of  her  methods 
in  the  spirit  of  filial  care,  and  Avitli  the  humility  of  love  !  It  is  with  this  view 
tliat  we  extract  from  an  ode  of  Chiabreia's  the  ibllovving  lines,  which,  in  the 
strength  of  the  thought  and  the  lofty  majesty  of  the  poetiy,  has  but  "few 
peers  in  ancient  or  in  modern  song." 

Columbus. 
Oerto  dal  cor,  ch'  alto  Destin  non  scelse. 


429 

ed  one  of  these   startling  facts,  the   change   of  the   magnetic 
needle  ! 

In  what  shall  we  seek  the  cause  of  this  contrast  between 
the  rapid  progress  of  electricity  and  the  stationary  condition  of 
magnetism?  As  many  theories,  as  many  hypotheses,  have 
been  advanced  in  the  latter  science  as  in  the  former.  But  the 
theories  and  fictions  of  the  electricians  contained  an  idea^  and 
all  the  same  idea,  which  has  necessarily  led  to  Method  ;  im- 
plicit indeed,  and  only  regulative  hitherto,  which  requires  lit- 
tle more  than  the  dismission  of  the  imagery  to  become  constit- 
uent like  the  ideas  of  the  geometrician.  On  the  contrary,  the 
assumptions,  of  the  magnetists  (as  for  instance,  the  hypothe- 
sis that  the  planet  itself  is  one  vast  magnet,  or  that  an  im- 
mense magnet  is  concealed  within  it ;  or  that  of  a  concentric 
globe  within  the  earth,  revolving  on  its  own  independent  axis) 
are  but  repetions  of  the  same  fact  or  phsenomenon  looked  at 
-.through  a  magnifying  glass ;  the  reiteration  of  the  problem, 
not  its  solution.  The  naturalist,  who  cannot  or  will  not  see, 
ihat  one  fact  is  often  worth  a  thousand,  as  including  them  ail 

Son  1'  imprese  magnanime  neglette  ; 

Ma  le  bell'  aline  alle  bell'  opre  elette 

Sanno  gioir  nelle  fatiche  eccelse  : 

Ne  biasmo  popolar,  frale  catena, 

Spirto  d'  onore  il  suo  cainmin  rafFrena. 

Cosi  lunga  stagion  per  modi  indegni 

Europa  disprezzo  1'  inclita  speme  : 
Sehemendo  il  vulgo  (e  seco  i  Regi  insieme) 
Nudo  nocchier  promettitor  di  regni ; 
Ma  per  le  sconosciute  onde  marine 
L'  inviua  prora  ei  pur  sospinse  al  fine. 
Qual  uom,  che  torni  al  gentil  consorte, 
Tal  ei  da  sua  magion  sj)ieg6  1'  antenne ; 
L'  ocean  corse,  e  i  turbini  sostenne, 
Vinse  le  crude  imagini  di  morte ; 
Poscia,  dell'  amjno  mar  spenta  la  guerra, 
Scorse  la  dianzi  favolosa  Terra. 
Allor  da!  cavo  Pin  scendo  veloce 

E  di  grand'  Orma  il  nuovo  mondo  imprime  ; 

Ne  men  ratto  per  I'Aria  erge  sublime, 

Segno  del  Ciel,  insupcrabil  Croce ; 

E  porse  umile  esempio,  onde  adorarla 

Debba  sua  Gente. 

Chiabrera,  vol.  i. 


423 

in  itself,  and  that  it  first  makes  all  the  others  facts ;  who  has 
not  the  head  to  comprehend,  the  soul  to  reverence,  a  central 
experiment  or  observation  (what  the  Greeks  would  perhaps 
have  called  a  protophcenomon);  will  never  receive  an  auspicious 
answer  from  the  oracle  of  nature. 


ESSAY     VTII. 


The  svin  doth  give 
Brightness  to  the  eye:  and  sojne  may  say,  that  the  sun 
If  not  enlightened  by  tJie  intelligence 
That  doth  inhabit  it,  would  shine  no  more 
Than  a  dull  clod  of  earth. 

Cartwright- 


It  is  strange,  yet  characteristic  of  the  spirit  that  was  at  work 
during  the  latter  half  of  the  last  century,  and  of  which  the 
French  revolution  was,  we  hope  the  closing  monsoon^  that  the 
writings  of  Plato  should  be  accused  of  estranging  the  mind  from 
sober  experience  and  substantial  matter-of-fact^  and  of  debauch- 
ing it  by  fictions  and  generalities.  Plato,  whose  method  is  in- 
ductive throughout,  who  argues  on  all  subjects  not  only  from^ 
but  in  and  &j/,  inductions  of  facts  !  Who  warns  us  indeed  against 
that  usurpation  of  the  senses,  which  quenching  the  "  lumen  sic- 
cum  "  of  the  mind,  sends  it  astray  after  individual  cases  for  their 
own  sakes  ;  against  that  tenuem  et  nmnipularem  experuntianiP^ 
which  remains  ignorant  even  of  the  transitory  relations,  to  which 
the  "  pauca  particularia"  of  its  idolatory  not  seldom  owe  their 
fluxional  existence  ;  but  who  so  far  oftener,  and  with  such  un- 
mitigated hostility,  pursues  the  assumptions,  abstractions,  gene- 


434 

ralities,  and  verbal  legerdemain  of  the  sophists  !     Strange,  but 
still  more  strange,  that  a  notion  so  groundless  should  be  entitled 
to  plead  in  its  behalf  the  authority  of  Lord  Bacon,  from  whom 
the   Latin  words    in  the   preceding   sentence    are   taken,  and 
whose  scheme  of  logic,  as  applied  to  the  contemplation  of  nature, 
is  Platonic  throughout,  aud  differing  only  in  the  mode  :  which 
in  Lord  Bacon  is  dogmatic,  i.  e.  assertory,  in  Plato  tentative, 
and  (to  adopt  the  Socratic'^  phrase )  obstetric.     We  are  not  the 
first,  or  even  among  the  first,  who  have   considered  Bacon's 
studied  depreciation  of  the  ancients,  with  his  silence,  or  worse 
than  silence,  concerning  the  merits  of  his  contemporaries,  as 
the  least  amiable,  the  least  exhilarating  side  in  the  character  of 
our  illustrious  countryman.     His  detractions  from  the  Divine 
Plato  it  is  more  easy  to  explain  than  to  justify  or  even  than  to 
palliate  :  and  that  he  has  merely  retaliated  Aristotle's  own 
unfair  treatment  of  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries,  may 
lessen  the  pain,  but  should  not  blind  us  by  the  injustice  of  the 
aspersions  on  the  name  and  works  of  this  philosopher.     The 
most  eminent  of  our  recent  zoologists  and  mineralogists  have 
acknowledged  witii  respect,  and  even  with  expressions  of  won- 
der, the  performances  of  Aristotle,  as  the  first  clearer  and 
breaker-up  of  the  ground  in  natural  history.     It  is  indeed  scarce- 
ly possible  to  peruse  the  treatise  on  colors,  falsely  ascribed  to 
Theophrastus,  the  scholar  and  successor  of  Aristotle,  after  a  due 
consideration  of  the  state  and  means  of  science  at  that  time, 
without  resenting  the  assertion,  that  he  had  utterly  enslaved  his 
investigations  in  natural  history  to  his  own  system  of  logic  (lo- 
gicse  suae  prorsus  mancipavit).     Nor  let  it  be  forgotten  that  the 
sunny  side  of  Lord  Bacon's  character  is  to  be  found   neither  in 
his  inductions,  nor  in  the  application  of  his  own  method  to  par- 
ticular phasnomena,  or  particular  classes  of  physical  facts,  which 
are  at  least  as  crude  for  the  age  of  Gilbert,  Galileo,  and  Kepler, 
as  Aristotle's  for  that  of  Philip  and  Alexander.     Nor  is  it  to  be 
found  in  his  recommendation   (which  is  wholly  independent  of 
scientific  method )  of  tabular  collections  of  particulars.     Let  any 
unprejudiced  naturalist  turn  to  Lord  Bacon's  questions  and  pro- 
posals for  the  investigation  of  single  problems  ;  to  his  Discourse 
on  the  Winds  ;  or  to  the  almost  comical  caricature  of  this  scheme 
in  the  "  Method  of  improving  Natural  Philosophy;"   (page  22 
to  48),  by  Robert  Hooke  (the  history  of  whose  multifold  inven- 
tions,  and   indeed   of  his   whole  philosophical  life,  is  the  best 


4S5 

answer  to  the  scheme,  if  a  scheme  so  palpably  impracticable  needs 
any  answer),  and  put  it  to  his  conscience,  whether  any  desira- 
ble end  could  be  hoped  for  from  such  a  process  ;  or  inquire  of 
his  own  experience,  or  historical  recollections  whether  any  im- 
portant discovery  was  ever  made  in  this  way.*  For  though 
Bacon  never  so  far  deviates  from  his  own  principles,  as  not  to 
admonish  the  reader  that  the  particulars  are  to  be  thus  collect- 
ed, only  that  by  careful  selection  they  may  be  concentrated  into 
universals  ;  yet  so  immense  is  their  number,  and  so  various  and 
almost  endless  the  relations  in  which  each  is  to  be  separately 
considered,  that  the  life  of  an  ante-deluvian  patriarch  would  be 
expended,  and  his  strength  and  spirits  have  been  wasted,  in 
merely  polling  the  votes,  and  long  before  he  could  commence 


*  We  refer  the  reader  to  the  Postliumous  Works  of  Robert  Hooke,  M.  D. 
F.  R.  S.  &c.  Foi-io,  published  under  the  auspices  of  the  Royal  Society,  by 
Richard  Waller:  and  especially  to  die  pages  from  p.  22  to  42  inclusive,  as  con- 
containing  the  prelmiinary  knowledges  requisite  or  desirable  for  the  naturahst, 
before  he  can  form  "  even  a  foundation  upon  which  any  thing  like  a  sound 
and  stable  Theory  can  be  constituted."  As  a  small  specimen  of  this  appalling 
catalogue  of  preliminaries  with  which  he  is  to  make  himself  conversant,  take 
the  following: — "The  history  of  potters,  tobacco-pipe-makers,  glaziers,  glass- 
grinders,  looking-glass-makers  or  foilers,  spectacle-makers,  and  optic-glass- 
makers,  makers  of  counterfeit  pearl  and  precious  stones,  bugle-makers,  lamp- 
blowers,  colour-makers,  colour-grinders,  glass-painters,  enamellers,  vamishers, 
colour-sellers,  painters,  limners,  picture-drawers,  makers  of  baby-heads,  of  little 
howling-stones  or  marbles,  fustian-makers,  (query  whether  poets  are  included 
in  this  trade  ?)  music-masters,  tinsey-makers,  and  taggers. — The  histoiy  of 
schoolmasters,  writ-ng-masters,  printers,  book-binders,  stage-players,  dancing- 
masters,  and  vau Iters,  apothecaries,  chirurgeoiis,  seamsters,  butchers,  barbers, 
laun-dressers,  and  cosmetics  !  &c.  &c.  &c.  &c.  (the  true  nature  of  which  be- 
ing actually  determmed)  will  hugely  facilitate  our  inquiries  m  philo- 


sophy 


1 1 1" 


As  a  summary  of  Dr.  R.  Ilooke'smidtifarious  recipe  for  the  growth  of  Sci- 
ence may  be  fairly  placed  that  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Watts  for  the  improve- 
ment of  the  mind,  which  was  thought  by  Dr.  Knox,  to  be  worthy  of  inser- 
tion ill  the  Elegant  Extracts,  Vol.  ii.  p.  45G,  under  the  head  of 
Directions  concerning  our  Ideas. 

"Furnish  yourselves  with  a  rich  variety  of  Ideas.  Acquaint  yourselves  with 
things  ancient  and  modern  ;  things  natural,  civil,  and  religious  ;  things  of  your 
native  land,  and  of  foreign  countries ;  things  domestic  and  national ;  things  pre- 
sent, past,  and  future ;  and  above  all,  be  well  acquainted  witli  God  and  your- 
Belves ;  with  animal  nature,  and  the  workings  of  your  own  spirit*  Such  a 
general  acquaintance  with  tMngs  will  be  qf  very  great  advantage.*' 

54 


426 

the  process  of  simplification,  or  have  arrived  in  sight  of  the  law 
which  was  to  reward  the  toils  of  the  over-tasked  Psyche.* 

We  yield  to  none  in  our  grateful  veneration  of  Lord  Bacon's 
philosophical  writings.  We  are  proud  of  his  very  name,  as 
men  of  science  :  and  as  Englishmen,  we  are  almost  vain  of  it. 
But  we  may  not  permit  the  honest  workings  of  national  attach- 
ment to  degenerate  into  the  jealous  and  indiscriminate  partial- 
ity of  clanship.  Unawed  by  such  as  praise  and  abuse  by 
wholesale,  we  dare  avow  that  there  are  points  in  the  character 
of  our  Verulam,  from  which  we  turn  to  the  life  and  labors  of 
John  Kepler,!  as  from  gloom  to  sunshine.  The  beginning 
and  the  close  of  his  life  were  clouded  by  poverty  and  domestic 
troubles,  while  the  intermediate  years  were  comprised  within 
the  most  tumultuous  period  of  the  history  of  his  country,  when 
the  furies  of  religious  and  political  discord  had  left  neither  eye, 
ear,  nor  heart  for  the  Muses.  But  Kepler  seemed  born  to 
prove  that  true  genius  can  overpower  all  obstacles.  If  he 
gives  an  account  of  his  modes  of  proceeding,  and  of  the  views 
under  which  they  first  occurred  to  his  mind,  how  unostentatious- 
ly and  in  transitu^  as  it  were,  does  he  introduce  himself  to  our 
notice :  and  yet  never  fails  to  present  the  living  germ  out  of 
which  the  genuine  method,  as  the  inner  form  of  the  tree  of 
science,  springs  up  !  With  what  affectionate  reverence  does  he 
express  himself  of  his  master  and  immediate  predecessor, 
Tycho  Brake  !  with  what  zeal  does  he  vindicate  his  services 
against  posthumous  detraction  !  How  often  and  how  gladly 
does  he  speak  of  Copernicus !  and  with  what  fervent  tones  of 
faith  and  consolation  does  he  proclaim  the  historic  fact  that  the 
great  men  of  all  ages  have  prepared  the  way  for  each  other,  as 
pioneers  and  heralds  !  Equally  just  to  the  ancients  and  to  his 
contemporaries,  how  circumstantially,  and  with  what  exactness 
of  detail,  does  Kepler  demonstrate  that  Elucid  copernicises — 
wg  tt^o  tou  Kottspv/kou  xo'TTcpvix-i^si  EuxXtK;);^- !  and  how  elegant  the  com- 
pliments which  he  addresses  to  Porta  !   with  what  cordiality 

*  Sec  the  beautiful  allegoric  tale  of  Cupid  and  Psyche,  in  the  original  of 
Apuleius.  The  tasks  imposed  on  her  by  the  jealousy  of  her  mother-in-law, 
and  the  agency  by  which  they  are  at  length  self-performed,  ai-e  noble  instan- 
ces of  that  hidden  wisdom,  "  where  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  ear." 

fBorn  1571,  ton  years  after  Lord  Bacon:  died  1630,  four  years  after  the 
death  of  Bacon. 


427 

he  thanks  him  for  the  invention  of  the  camera  obseura,  as  en- 
larging his  views  into  the  laws  of  vision  !  But  while  we  can- 
not avoid  contrasting  this  generous  enthusiasm  with  Lord  Ba- 
con's cold  invidious  treatment  of  Gilbert,  and  his  assertion 
that  the  works  of  Plato  and  Aristotle  had  been  carried  down 
the  stream  of  time,  like  straws,  by  their  levity  alone,  when 
things  of  weight  and  worth  sunk  to  the  bottom  :  still  in  the  Foun- 
der of  a  revolution,  scarcely  less  important  for  the  scientific, 
and  even  for  the  commercial  world,  than  that  of  Luther  for 
the  world  of  religion  and  politics,  we  must  allow  much  to  the 
heat  of  protestation,  much  to  the  vehemence  of  hope,  and 
much  to  the  vividness  of  novelty.  Still  more  must  we  attrib- 
ute to  the  then  existing  and  actual  state  of  the  Platonic  and 
Peripatetic  philosophy,  or  rather  to  the  dreams  or  verbiage 
which  then  passed  current  as  such.  Had  he  but  attached  to 
their  proper  authors  the  schemes  and  doctrines  which  he  con- 
demns, our  illustrious  countryman  would,  in  this  point  at  least, 
have  needed  no  apology.  And  surely  no  lover  of  truth,  con- 
versant with  the  particulars  of  Lord  Bacon's  life,  with  the  ve- 
ry early,  almost  boyish  age,  at  which  he  quitted  the  university, 
and  the  manifold  occupations  and  anxieties  in  which  his  public  and 
professional  duties  engaged,  and  his  courtly, — alas  !  his  servile, 
prostitute,  and  mendicant — ambition,  entangled  him  in  his  after 
years,  will  be  either  surprised  or  offended,  though  we  should  avow 
our  conviction,  that  he  had  derived  his  opinions  of  Plato  and 
Aristotle  from  any  source,  rather  than  from  a  dispassionate  and 
patient  study  of  the  originals  themselves.  At  all  events  it  will 
be  no  easy  task  to  reconcile  many  passages  in  the  De  Augmen- 
tis,  and  the  Redargutio  Philosophiarum,  with  the  author's  own 
fundamental  principles,  as  established  in  his  Novum  Organum, 
if  we  attach  to  the  words  the  meaning  which  they  may  bear, 
or  even, .in  some  instances,  the  meaning  which  might  appear 
to  us,  in  the  present  age,  more  obvious ;  instead  of  the  sense 
in  which  they  were  employed  by  the  professors,  whose  false 
premises  and  barren  methods  Bacon  was  at  that  time  contro- 
verting. And  this  historical  interpretation  is  rendered  the 
more  necessary  by  his  fondness  for  point  and  antithesis  in  his 
style,  where  we  must  often  disturb  the  sound  in  order  to  arrive 
at  the  sense.  But  with  these  precautions;  and  if,  in  collating 
the  philosophical  works  of  Lord  Bacon  with  those  of  Plato, 
we,  in  both  cases  alike,  seperate   the  grounds  and  essential 


428 

principles  of  their  philosophic  systems  from  the  inductions 
themselves ;  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  which,  in  the  British 
sage,  as  well  as  in  the  divine  Athenian,  is  neither  more  nor 
less  crude  and  erroneous  than  might  be  anticipated  from  the 
infant  state  of  natural  history,  chemistry,  and  physiology,  in 
their  several  ages ;  and  if  we  moreover  separate  their  princi- 
ples from  their  practical  application,  which  in  both  is  not  sel- 
dom impracticable,  and,  in  our  countryman,  not  always  recon- 
cileable  with  the  principles  themselves :  we  shall  not  only  ex- 
tract that  from  each,  which  is  for  all  ages,  and  which  consti- 
tutes their  true  systems  of  philosophy,  but  shall  convince  our- 
selves that  they  are  radically  one  and  the  same  system :  in  that 
namely,  which  is  of  universal  and  imperishable  worth ! — the 
science  of  Method,  and  the  grounds  and  conditions  of  the  sci- 
ence of  Method. 


ESSAY  IX. 


A  great  authority  may  be  a  poor  jnoof,  but  it  is  an  excellent  presumption : 
and  few  things  give  a  wise  man  a  truer  delight  than  to  reconcile  two  gi-eat 
authorities,  that  had  been  commonly  but  falsely  held  to  be  dissonant. 

Stapylton. 


Under  a  deep  impression  of  the  importance  of  the  truths  we 
have  essayed  to  develope,  we  would  fain  remove  every  preju- 
dice that  does  not  originate  in  the  heart  rather  than  in  the  un- 
derstanding. For  Truth,  says  the  wise  man,  will  not  enter  a 
malevolent  spirit. 

To  offer  or  to  receive  names  in  lieu  of  sound  arguments,  is 
only  less  reprehensible  than  an  ostentatious  contempt  of  the 
great  men  of  former  ages ;  but  we  may  well  and  wisely  avail 
ourselves  of  authorities,  in  confirmation  of  truth,  and  above  all, 
in  the  lemoval  of  prejudices  founded  on  imperfect  information. 


429 

We  do  not  see,  therefore,  how  we  can  more  appropriately  con- 
clude this  first,  explanatory  and  controversial  section  of  our 
inquiry,  than  by  a  brief  statement  of  our  renowned  country- 
man's own  principles  of  Method,  conveyed  for  the  greater  part 
in  his  own  words.  Nor  do  we  see,  in  what  more  precise  form 
we  can  recapitulate  the  substance  of  the  doctrines  asserted  and 
vindicated  in  the  preceding  pages.  For  we  rest  our  strongest 
pretensions  to  a  calm  and  respectful  perusal,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, on  the  fact,  that  we  have  only  re-proclaimed  the  coin- 
ciding prescripts  of  the  Athenian  Verulam,  and  the  British 
Plato — genuinam  scilicet  Platonis  Dialecticem ;  et  Methodo- 
logiam  Principialem 

FRANCISCI  DE  VERULAMIO. 

In  the  first  instance,  Lord  Bacon  equally  with  ourselves,  de- 
mands what  we  have  ventured  to  call  the  intellectual  or  mental 
initiative,  as  the  motive  and  guide  of  every  philosophical  ex- 
periment ;  some  well-grounded  purpose,  some  distinct  impres- 
sion of  the  probable  results,  some  self-consistent  anticipation 
as  the  ground  of  the  '■'■  prudens  qucBstio'"'  (the  fore-thoughtful 
query),  which  he  affirms  to  be  the  prior  half  of  the  knowl- 
edge sought,  dimidium  scietiticB.  With  him,  therefore,  as 
with  us,  an  idea  is  an  experiment  proposed,  an  experiment  is 
an  idea  realized.  For  so,  though  in  other  words,  he  himself 
informs  us :  "  neque  scientiam  molimur  tam  sensu  vel  instru- 
mentis  quam  experimentis ;  etenim  experimentorum  longe  ma- 
jor est  subtilitas  quam  sensus  ipsius,  licit  instrumentis  exquisitis 
adjuti.  Nam  de  Us  loquimur  experimentis  quce,  ad  intentionem 
ejus  quod  qcE,ritur  perite  et  secundum  artem  excogitata  et  ap- 
posita  sunt.  Itaque  pereeptioni  sensus  immediatse  et  proprise 
non  multum  tribuimus :  sed  eo  rem  deducimus,  ut  sensus  tan- 
tum  de  experimento,  experimentum  de  rejudicet."  This  last 
sentence  is,  as  the  attentive  reader  will  have  himself  detected 
one  of  those  faulty  verbal  antitheses,  not  unfrequent  in  Lord 
Bacon's  writings.  Pungent  antitheses,  and  the  analogies  of 
wit  in  which  the  resemblance  is  too  often  more  indebted  to 
the  double  or  equivocal  sense  of  a  word,  than  to  any  real  con- 
formity* in  the  thing  or  image,  form  the  dulcia  vitia  of  his  style, 

*  Thus  (to  take  the  first  instance  that  occurs),  Bacon  says,  that  some  knowl- 
edges, like  the  stars,  are  so  high  that  they  give  no  light.  Where  the  word 
"high,"  means  deep  or  sublime,  "in  the  one  case  and  distant"  in  the  othei*. 


430 

the  Dalilahs  of  our  philosophical  Sampson.  But  in  this  in- 
stance, as  indeed  throughout  all  his  works,  the  meaning  is  clear 
and  evident — namely,  that  the  sense  can  apprehend,  through  the 
organs  of  sense,  only  the  phoenomena  evoked  by  the  experiment: 
vis  vero  mentis  ea,  quie  experimentum  excogitaverat,  de  Re  ju- 
dicet :  i.  e.  that  pov/er  which,  out  of  its  own  conception  had 
shaped  the  experiment,  must  alone  determine  the  true  import 
of  the  phaenomena.  If  again  we  ask,  what  it  is  which  gives  birth 
to  the  question,  and  then  ad  intentionem  qusestionis  suse  experi- 
mentum excogitat,  unde  de  Re  judicet,  the  answer  is  :  Lux  In- 
tellectus,  lumen  siccuni,  the  pure  and  impersonal  reason,  freed 
from  all  the  various  idols  enumerated  by  our  great  legislator  of 
science  [idola  tribuc,  epecus,  fori,  theatri)  ;  that  is,  freed 
from  the  limits,  the  passions,  the  prejudices,  the  peculiar  ha- 
bits of  the  human  understanding,  natural  or  acquired ;  but 
above  all,  pure  from  the  -arrogance,  which  leadsman  to  take  the 
forms  and  mechanism  of  his  own  mere  reflective  faculty,  as  the 
measure  of  nature  and  of  Deity.  In  this  indeed  we  find  the 
great  object  both  of  Plato's  and  of  Lord  Bacon's  labors.  They 
both  saw  that  there  could  be  no  hope  of  any  fruitful  and  secure 
method,  while  forms  merely  subjective^  were  presumed  as  the 
true  and  proper  moulds  of  objective  truth.  This  is  the  sense  in 
which  Lord  Bacon  uses  the  phrases, — intellectus  humanus, 
mens  hominis,  so  profoundly  and  justly  characterized  in  the 
preliminary  (Distributio  Operis)  of  his  De  Augment.  Scient. 
And  with  all  right  and  propriety  did  he  so  apply  them  :  for  this 
was,  in  fact,  the  sense  in  which  the  phrases  were  applied  by 
the  teachers,  whom  he  is  controverting ;  by  the  doctors  of  the 
schools ;  and  the  visionaries  of  the  laboratory.  To  adopt  the 
bold  but  happy  phrase  of  a  late  ingenious  French  writer,  it  is 
the  homme  particulier,  as  contrasted  with  I'homme  generate ; 
against  which,  Heraclitus  and  Plato,  among  the  ancients,  and 
among  the  moderns,  Bacon  and  Stewart  (rightly  under- 
stood), warn  and  pre-admonish  the  sincere  inquirer.  Most 
truly,  and  in  strict  consonance  with  his  two  great  predecessors, 
does  our  immortal  Verulam  teach — that  the  human  understand- 
ing, even  independent  of  the  causes  that  always,  previously  to  its 
purification  by  philosophy,  render  it  more  or  less  turbid  or  une- 
ven, "ipsa  sua  natura  radios  ex  figura  et  sectione  propria  immu- 
tat :"  that  our  understanding  not  only  reflects  the  objects  subjec- 
tively, that  is,  substitutes,  for  the  inherent  laws  and  properties  of 


431 

the  objects  the  relations  which  the  objects  bear  to  its  own  par- 
ticular   constitution  ;    but    that   in   all   its    conscious   presenta- 
tions and  reflexes,  it  is  itself  only  a  phaenomenon  of  the  inner 
sense,  and   requires  the    same   corrections  as  the  appearances 
transmitted  by  the  outward  senses.'    But  that  there  is  poten- 
tially, if  not  actually,  in  every  rational  being,  a  somewhat,  call 
it  what  you  will,  the  pure   reason,   the    spirit,  lumen   siccura, 
vou?,  (poj?  vos^sov,  intellectual   intuition,  S:c.  &c.  ;  and  that  in  this 
are  to  be  found  the  indispensable  conditions  of  all  science,  and 
scientific  research,  whether  meditative,  contemplative,  or  ex- 
perimental ;    is  often  expressed,  and  every  where  supposed,  by 
Lord  Bacon.     And  that  this  is  not  only  the  right  but  the  possi- 
ble nature  of  the  human  mind,  to  which  it  is  capable  of  being 
restored,  is  implied  in  the  various  remedies  prescribed  by  him 
for  its   diseases,   and  in   tlie  various  means   of  neutralizing   or 
converting  into  useful  instrumentality  the   imperfections  which 
cannot  be  removed.     There  is  a  sublime  truth  contained  in  his 
favorite  phrase — Idola   intellectus.     He  thus  tells  us,  that  the 
mind  of  man  is  an  edifice   not  built  with  human  hands,  which 
needs  only  be  purged   of  its   idols   and   idolatrous  services  to 
become  the  temple  of  the  true  and  living  Light.     Nay,  he  has 
shown   and   established  the   true    criterion   between  the  ideas 
and  the  idola  of  the  mind — namely,  that  the  former  are  mani- 
fested by  their  adequacy  to  those  ideas  in  nature,  which  in  and 
through  them  are  contemplated.     "  Non  leve  quiddam  interest 
inter  humanae   mentis   idola   et  divinae  mentis  ideas,  hoc   est, 
inter  placita  quaedam  inania  et  veras  signaturas  atque  impress- 
iones   factas  in   creaturis,    prout  Ratione  sana  et  sicci  luminis, 
quam  docendi  causa  interpretem  naturae  vocare  consuevimus, 
inveniuntur."     Novum   Organum   xxiii.    &    xxvi.     Thus  the 
difference,  or  rather  distinction  between  Plato  and  Lord  Bacon 
is  simply  this  :  that  philosophy  being  necessarily  bi-polar,  Pla- 
to treats  principally  of   the  truth,  as  it  manifests  itself  at  the 
ideal  pole,  as  the  science  of  intellect  (i.  e.  de  mundo  intelligi- 
bili);    while  Bacon  confines  himself,  for  the  most  part,  to  the 
same  truth,  as  it  is   manifested  at  the  other,  or   material  pole, 
as  the  science  of  nature    (i.  e.  de   mundo   sensibili).     It  is  as 
necessary,    therefore,   that   Plato    should    direct   his    inquiries 
chiefly  to  those  objective  truths  that  exist  in  and  for  the  intel- 
lect alone,  the  images  and  representatives  of  which  we  con- 
struct for  ourselves  by  figure,  number,  and  word  ;  as  that  Lord 


432 

Bacon  should  attach  his  main  concern  to  the  truths  which  have 
their  signatures  in  nature,  and  which  (as  he  himself  plainly 
and  often  asserts)  may  indeed  be  revealed  to  us  through  and 
with^  but  never  63/ the  senses,  or  the  faculty  of  sense.  Other- 
wise, indeed,  instead  of  being  more  objective  than  the  former 
(which  they  are  not  in  any  sense,  both  being  in  this  respect 
the  same),  they  would  be  less  so,  and,  in  fact,  incapable  of  be- 
ing insulated  from  the  "  Idola  tribus  quae  in  ipsa  natura  fun- 
data  sunt,  atque  in  ipsa  tribu  seu  gente  hominum  :  cum  omnes 
perceptiones  tam  sensus  quam  mentis,  sunt  ex  analogia  hominis 
non  ex  analogia  universi."  (N.  0.  xli.)  Hence  too,  it  will 
not  surprise  us,  that  Plato  so  often  calls  ideas  living  laws,  in 
which  the  mind  has  its  whole  true  being  and  permanence  ;  or 
that  Bacon,  vice  versa,  names  the  laws  of  nature,  ideas  ;  and 
represents  what  we  have,  in  a  former  part  of  this  disquisition, 
called yacfs  of  science  and  central  phanomena^  as  signatures, 
impresssions,  and  symbols  of  ideas.  A  distinguishable  power 
self-affirmed,  and  seen  in  its  unity  with  the  Eternal  Essence,  is, 
according  to  Plato,  an  Idea  :  and  the  discipline,  by  which  the 
human  mind  is  purified  from  its  idols  (ti(5wXa)  and  raised  to  the 
contemplation  of  Ideas,  and  thence  to  the  secure  and  ever  pro- 
gressive, though  never-ending,  investigation  of  truth  and  real- 
ity by  scientific  method,  comprehends  what  the  same  philoso- 
pher so  highly  extols  under  the  title  of  Dialectic.  According  to 
Lord  Bacon,  as  describing  the  same  truth  seen  from  the  oppo- 
site point,  and  applied  to  natural  philosophy,  an  idea  would  be 
defined  as — Intuitio  sive  inventio,  quae  in  perceptione  sensus 
non  est  (ut  quae  purae  et  sicci  luminis  Intellectioni  est  propria) 
idearum  divinae  mentis,  prout  in  creaturis  per  signaturus  suas 
sese  patefaciant.  That  ( saith  the  judicious  Hooker  )  which  doth 
assign  to  each  thing  the  kind,  that  which  determines  the  force 
and  power,  that  which  doth  appoint  the  form  and  measure  of 
working,  the  same  we  term  a  Law. 

We  can  now,  as  men  furnished  with  fit  and  respectable  cre- 
dentials, proceed  to  the  historic  importance  and  practical  appli- 
cation of  Method,  under  the  deep  and  solemn  conviction,  that 
without  this  guiding  Light  neither  can  the  sciences  attain  to 
their  full  evolution,  as  the  organs  of  one  vital  and  harmonious 
body,  nor  that  most  weighty  and  concerning  of  all  scien- 
ces, the  science  of  Education,  be  understood  in  its  first  ele- 


433 

ments,  much  less  display  its  powers,  as  the  nisus  formativus*  of 
social   man,   as   the    appointed  protoplast  of  true  humanity. 

*  So  our  medical  writers  commonly  translate  Professor  Blnmenbach's  BU- 
dungstrieb,  the  vis  plastica,  or  vis  vJtie  formatrix  of  the  eldest  ])hysiologists, 
and  tlic  life  or  living  principle  of  John  Hunter,  the  profoundest,  we  had  al- 
most said  the  only,  ])hysiologieal  philosopher  of  the  latter  half  of  the  prece- 
ding century.  For  in  what  other  sense  can  tvc  understand  either  his  asser- 
tion, that  this  principle  or  agent  is  "  independent  of  organization,"  which  yet 
it  animates,  sustains,  and  repairs,  or  the  purport  of  that  magnificent  commen- 
taiy  on  his  system,  the  Hunteiian  Musseuni,  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  The 
Hunterian  idea  of  a  life  or  vital  principle,  " independent  of  the  organization" 
yet  in  each  organ  working  instinctively  towards  its  preservation,  as  the  ants 
or  termites  in  repairing  the  nests  of  their  own  fabrication,  demonstrates  that 
John  Hunter  did  not,  as  Stahl  and  others  had  done,  individualize,  or  make  an 
hypostasis  of  the  principles  of  life,  as  a  somewhat  manifestable  per  se,  and 
consequently  itself  a  Phsenomenon  ;  the  latency  of  which  was  to  be  attribu- 
ted to  accidental,  or  at  least  contingent  causes,  ex.  gr. ;  the  ^imits  or  iniper- 
fection  of  our  senses,  or  the  inaptness  of  the  media:  but  that  herein  he  phi- 
losophized in  the  sjjirit  of  the  purest  Newtonians,  who  in  like  manner  refu- 
sed to  hypostasize  the  law  of  gravitation  into  an  ether,  which  even  if  its  ex- 
istence were  conceded,  would  need  another  gravitation  for  itself.  The  Hun- 
terian position  is  a  genuine  philosophic  idea,  the  negative  test  of  which  as  of 
all  Ideas  is,  that  it  is  equi-distaut  from  an  ens  logicum  (=  an  abstraction,)  an 
ens  repra3sentativum  (^  a  generalization,)  and  an  ens  phantosticum  (=  an 
imaginary  tiling  or  phsenomenon.) 

Is  not  the  progressive  enlargement,  the  boldness  without  temerity,  of  chi- 
rurgical  views  and  chirargical  practice  since  Hunter's  time  to  the  present  day, 
attributable,  in  almost  every  instance,  to  his  substitution  of  what  may  per- 
haps be  called  experimental  Dynamic,  for  the  mechanical  notions,  or  the  less 
injurious  traditional  empiricism,  of  his  predecessors  ?  And  this,  too,  though 
the  light  is  still  struggling  through  a  cloud,  and  though  it  is  shed  on  many  who 
see  either  dimly  or  not  at  all  the  Idea  from  which  it  is  eradicated?  Willingly 
would  we  designate,  what  we  have  clscwliere  called  the  mental  initiative,  by 
some  term  less  obnoxious  to  the  anti-Platonic  reader,  than  this  of  Idea — ob- 
noxious, we  mean,  as  soon  as  any  precise  and  peculiar  sense  is  attached  to 
the  sound.  Willingly  would  we  exchange  the  Term,  might  it  be  done  with- 
out sacrifice  of  the  Import:  and  did  we  not  see,  too,  clearly,  that  it  is  the 
meaning,  not  the  word,  that  is  the  object  of  that  aversion,  which,  fleeing  fi-om 
inward  alarm,  tries  to  shelter  itself  in  outward  contempt — that  is  at  once  folly 
and  a  stuml)ling-hlock  to  the  partizans  of  a  crass  and  sensual  materialism 
the  advocates  of  the  Nihil  nisi  ab  extra. 

They,  like  moles. 
Nature's  mute  monks,  live  mandrakes  of  the  ground, 
Shrink  from  the  light,  then  listen  for  a  sound  ; 
See  but  to  dread,  and  dread  they  know  not  why, 
The  natural  alien  of  their  negative  eye !  S.  T.  C, 

b5 


434 

Never  can  society  comprehend  fully,  and  in  its  whole  practical 
.extent,  the  permanent  distinction,  and  the  occasional  contrast, 
between  cultivation  and  civilization  ;  never  can  it  attain  to  a 
due  insight  into  the  momentous  fact,  fearfully  as  it  has  been, 
and  even  now  is  exemplified  in  a  neighbor  country,  that  a  na- 
tion can  never  be  a  too  cultivated,  but  may  easily  become  an 
over-civilized,  race:  while  we  oppose  ourselves  voluntaiily  to 
that  grand  prerogative  of  our  nature,  a  hungering  and  thirst- 
ing AFTER  TRUTH,  as  the  appropriate  end  of  our  intelligential, 
and  its  point  of  union  with,  our  moral  nature  ;  but  therefore 
after  truth,  that  must  be  found  vvilhin  us  before  it  can  be  intel- 
ligibly reflected  back  on  the  mind  from  without,  and  a  religious 
re^'-ard  to  which  is  indispensable,  both  as  a  guide  and  object  to 
the  just  formation  of  tlie  human  being,  poor  and  rich  :  while, 
in  a  word,  we  are  blind  to  the  master-light,  which  we  have  al- 
ready presented  in  various  points  of  view,  and  recommended 
by  whatever  is  of  highest  authority  with  the  venerators  of  the 
ancient,  and  the  adherents  of  modern  philosophy. 


ESSAY    X. 


Jlo^viiuO'irj   voov   ov   8i<iaa-/.ef   eivai  yag  fi'to  acKfOv,  Fmccta&ai  '/vcofir/V 
'Tjze  eyKvOtgi'ijOfi  ttuvju   8ia  nuvjwv. 

(Trannlaiion.) — The  effective  educatioii  of  th:^  reason  is  not  to  he  supplied 
by  niultit'arioiis  acquirements ;  for  tliere  is  but  one  knowledge  tliat  merits  to 
be  called  wisdom,  a  knowledge  that  is  i  ne  with  a  law  which  shall  govern 
nil  in  and  through  all. 

IIerac.  apud  Diogenem  Lacrl.  ix,  §  1 


HISTORICAL  AND  ILLUSTRATIVE. 

There  is  still  preserved  in  the  Royal  Observatory  at  Rich- 
mond the  model  of  a  bridge,  constructed  by  the  late  justly 
celebrated  Mr.  Atwood  (at  that  time,  however,  in  the  decline 
of  life),  in  the  confidence,  that  he  had  explained  the  wonder- 
ful properties  of  the  arch  as  resulting  from  compound  action  of 
simple  wedges,  or  of  the  rectilinear  solids  of  which  the  mate- 
rial arch  was  coinposed  :  and  of  which  supposed  discovery,  his 
model  w^TS  to  exhibit  ocular  proof.  ^Accordingly,  he  took  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  wedges  of  brass  highly  polished.  Arranging 
these  at  first  on  a  skeleton  arch  of  wood,  he  then  removed  this 
scaffolding  or  support ;  and  the  bridge  not  only  stood  firm, 
without  any  cement  between  the  squares;  but  he  could  take 
away  any  given  portion  of  them,  as  a  third  and  a  half,  and  ap- 
pending a  correspondent  weight,  at  either  side,  the  remaining 
part  stood  as  before.  Our  venerable  sovereign,  who  is  known 
to  have  had  a  particular  interest  and  pleasure  in  all  works  and 
discoveries  of  mechanic  science  or  ingenuity,  looked  «t  il  for 
awhile  steadfastly,  and,  as  his  manner  was,  with  quick  and  bro- 
ken expressions  of  praise  and  courteous  approbation,  in  the 
form  of  answers  to  his  own  questions.  At  length  turning  to 
the  constructor,  he  said,  "  But,  Mr.  Atwood,  you  have  presum- 
ed the  figure.     You  have  put  the  arch  first  in  this  wooden  she- 


436 

leton.  Can  you  build  a  bridge  of  the  same  wedges  in  any  oth- 
er figure  ?  A  straight  bridge,  or  with  two  lines  touching  at  the 
apex  ?  If  not,  is  it  not  evident,  that  the  bits  of  brass  derive 
their  continuance  in  the  present  position  from  the  property  of  the 
arch,  and  not  the  arch  from  the  property  of  the  wedge  ?"  The 
objection  was  fatal ;  the  justice  of  the  remark  not  to  be  resist- 
ed ;  and  we  have  ever  deemed  it  a  forcible  illustration  of  the 
Aristotelian  axiom,  with  respect  to  all  just  reasoning,  that  the 
whole  is  of  necessity  prior  to  its  parts  ;  nor  can  we  conceive  a 
more  apt  illustration  of  the  scientific  principles  we  have  already 
laid  down. 

All  method  supposes  a  union  of  several  things  to  a  common 
end,  either  by  disposition,  as  in  the  works  of  man ;  or  by  con- 
vergence, as  in  the  operations  and  products  of  nature.  That 
we  acknowledge  a  method^  even  in  the  latter,  results  from  the 
religious  instinct  which  bids  us  "  find  tongues  in  trees  ;  books 
in  the  running  streams ;  sermons  in  stones :  and  good  (that  is, 
some  useful  end  answering  to  some  good  purpose)  in  every 
thing."  In  a  self-conscious  and  thence  reflecting  being,  no 
instinct  can  exist,  without  engendering  the  belief  of  an  object 
corresponding  to  it,  either  present  or  future,  real  or  capable  of 
being  realized  :  much  less  the  instinct,  in  which  humanity  itself 
is  grounded  :  that  by  which,  in  every  act  of  conscious  perception, 
we  at  once  identify  our  being  with  that  of  the  world  without 
us  and  yet  place  ourselves  in  contra-distinction  to  that  world. 
Least  of  all  can  this  mysterious  pre-disposition  exist  without 
evolving  a  belief  that  the  productive  power,  which  is  in  nature 
as  nature,  is  essentially  one  (i.  e.  of  one  kind)  with  the  intel- 
ligence, which  is  in  the  human  mind  above  nature  :  however 
disfigured  this  belief  may  become,  by  accidental  forms  or  ac- 
companiments, and  though  like  heat  in  the  thav.ing  of  ice,  it 
may  appear  only  in  its  eflects.  So  universally  has  this  convic- 
tion leavened  the  very  substance  of  all  discourse,  that  there  is 
no  language  on  earth  in  wliich  a  man  can  abjure  it  as  a  preju- 
dice, without  employing  terms  and  conjunctions  that  suppose  its 
reality,  with  a  feeling  very  difterent  from  that  which  accom- 
panies a  figurative  or  metaphorical  use  of  words.  In  all  aggre- 
gates of  construction,  therefore,  which  we  contemplate  as 
wholes,  whether  as  integral  parts  or  as  a  system,  we  assume 
an  intention,  as  the  initiative,  of  which  the  end  is  the  correla- 
tive. 


437 

Hence  proceeds  the  introduction  of  final  causes  in  the  works 
of  nature  equally  as  in  those  of  man.     Hence  their  assumption, 
as  constitutive  and  explanatory  by  the  mass  of  mankind ;  and 
the  employment  of  the  j:)resumption,  as  an  auxiliary  and  regula- 
tive principle,  by  the   enlightened  naturalist,  whose  office  it  is 
to  seek,  discover,  and  investigate  the  efficient  causes.     Without 
denying,  that  to  resolve  the  efficient  into   the  final  may  be  the 
ultimate   aim  of  philosophy,  he,  of  good  right,  resists  the  sub- 
stitution of  the  latter  for  the  former,  as  premature,  presumptu- 
ous, and  preclusive  of  all  science  ;  well  aware,  that  those  sci- 
ences have  been  most  progressive,  in  which  this  confusion  has 
been  either  precluded  by  the  nature  of  the  science  itself,  as  in 
pure  mathematics,  or  avoided  by  the  good  sense  of  its  cultivator. 
Yet  even  he  admits  a  teleological  ground  in  physics  and  physiolo- 
gy :  that  is,  the  presumption  of  something  analogous  to  the  caus- 
ality of  the  human  will,  by  which,  without  assigning  to  nature,  as 
nrture,  a  conscious  purpose,  he  may  yet  distinguish  her  agency 
from   a  blind  and  lifeless  mechanism.     Even  he  admits  its  use, 
and,  in  many  instances,  its  necessity,  as  a  regulative  principle; 
as  a  ground  of  anticipation,  for  the  guidance  of  his  judgment 
and  for  the  direction  of  his  observation  and  experiment  :  brief- 
ly in  all  that  preparatory  process,  which  the  French  language 
so  happily  expresses  by  s^orienter,  i.  e.  to  find  out  the  east  for 
one's  self.     When  the  naturalist  contemplates  the  structure  of 
a  bird,  for  instance,  the  hollow  cavity  of  the  bones,  the  position 
of  the  wings  for  motion,  and  of  the  tail  for  steering  its  course, 
&c.  he  knows  indeed  that  there  must  be  a  correspondent  me- 
chanism, as  the  nexus  effectivus.     But  he  knows,  likewise,  that 
this  will  no  more  explain  tho  particular  existence  of  the  bird, 
than  the  principles  of  cohesion,  &c.  could  inform   him  why  of 
two  buildings,  one  is  a  palace,  and  the  other  a  church.     Nay, 
it  must  not  be  overlooked,  that  the  assumption  of  the  nexus  ef- 
fectivus itself  originates  in  the  mind,  as  one  of  the  laws  under 
which  alone  it  can  reduce  the  manifold  of  the  impression  from 
without  into  unity,  and  thus  conten:iplate  it  as   one  thing;  and 
could  never  (as  hath  been  clearly  proved  by  Mr.  Hume)  have 
been  derived  from  outward  experience,  in  which   it  is  indeed 
presupposed,  as  a  necessary  condition.     Notio  nexiis  causalis 
non  oritur,  sed  supponitur,  a  sensihiis.     Between  the  purpose 
and  the  end  the  component  parts  are   included,  and  thence  re- 
ceive their  position  and  character  as  means,  i.  e.  parts  contem- 


\ 
\ 


438 

plated  as  parts.  It  is  in  this  sense,  we  will  affirm,  that  the 
parts,  as  means  to  an  end,  derive  their  position,  and  therein 
their  qualities  (or  character)  nay,  we  dare  add,  their  very  ex- 
istence— as  particular  things — Irom  the  antecedent  method,  or 
self-organizing  purpose  ;  upon  which  therefore  we  have  dwelt 
so  long. 

We  are  aware,  that  it  is  with  our  cognitions  as  with  our 
children.  There  is  a  period  in  which  the  method  of  nature  is 
working  for  them  ;  a  period  of  aimless  activity  and  unregula- 
ted accumulation,  during  which  it  is  enough  if  we  can  pre- 
serve them  in  health  and  out  of  harm^s  way.  Again,  there  is 
a  period  of  orderliness,  of  circumspection,  of  discipline,  in 
which  we  purify,  separate,  define,  select,  arrange,  and  settle 
the  nomenclature  of  communication.  There  is  also  a  period 
of  dawning  and  twilight,  a  period  of  anticipation,  afiording 
trials  of  strength.  And  all  these,  both  in  the  growth  of  the 
sciences,  and  in  the  mind  of  a  jigiitly-educated  individual,  will 
precede  the  attainment  of  a  scientific  Method.  But,  notwith- 
standing this,  unless  the  importance  of  the  latter  be  felt  and 
acknowledged,  unless  its  attainment  be  looked  forward  to  and 
from  the  very  beginning  prepared  for,  there  is  little  hope  and 
small  chance  that  any  education  will  be  conducted  aright ;  or 
will  ever  prove  in  reality  worth  the  name. 

Much  labor,  much  wealth  may  have  been  expended,  yet  the 
final  result  will  too  probably  warrant  the  sarcasm  of  the  Scythian 
traveller  :  "  V^ae  !  quantum  nihili  !"  and  draw  from  a  wise 
man  the  earnest  recommendation  of  a  full  draught  from  Lethe, 
as  the  first  and  indispensable  preparative  for  the  waters  of  the 
true  Helicon.  Alas  !  how  many  examples  are  now  present  to 
our  memory,  of  young  men  the  most  anxiously  and  expensive- 
ly be-schooimastered,  be-tutored,  be-lectured,  any  thing  but 
educated  ;  who  have  received  arms  and  ammunition,  instead  of 
skill,  strength,  and  courage;  varnished  rather  than  polished; 
perilously  over-civilized,  and  most  pitiably  uncultivated  !  And 
all  from  inattention  to  the  method  dictated  by  nature  herself,  to 
the  simple  truth,  that  as  the  forms  in  all  organized  existence, 
so  must  all  true  and  living  knowledge  proceed  from  within  ; 
that  it  may  be  trained,  supported,  fed,  excited,  but  can  never 
be  infused  or  impressed. 

Look  back  on  the  history  of  the  Sciences.  Review  the  Me- 
thod in  which  Providence  has  brought  the  more  favored  portion 


439 

of  mankind  to  the  present  state  of  Arts  and  Sciences.  Lord 
Bacon  has  justly  remarked,  Antiquitas  tempo)'is  juventus  mun- 
di  et  ScienticB — Antiquity  of  time  is  the  youth  of  the  world  and 
of  Science.  In  the  childhood  of  the  human  race,  its  education 
commenced  with  the  cultivation  of  the  moral  sense  ;  the  ohject 
proposed  being  such  as  the  mind  only  could  apprehend,  and  the 
principle  of  obedience  being  placed  in  the  will.  The  appeal 
in  both  was  made  to  the  inward  man.  "  Through  faith  we  un- 
derstand that  the  worlds  were  framed  by  the  word  of  God  ;  so 
that  things  which  were  seen  were  not  made  of  things  which  do 
appear."  (The  solution  of  Phmiomena  can  never  be  derived 
from  PhcE-nomena.)  Upon  this  ground,  the  writer  of  the  epis- 
tle to  the  Hebrews  (chap,  xi.)  is  not  less  philosophical  than 
eloquent.  The  aim,  the  method  throughout  w^as,  in  the  first 
place,  to  awaken,  to  cultivate,  and  to  mature  the  truly  humari 
in  human  nature,  in  and  through  itself,  or  as  independently  as 
possible  of  the  notices  derived  from  sense,  and  of  the  motives 
that  had  reference  to  the  sensations  ;  till  the  time  should  arrive 
when  the  senses  themselves  might  be  allowed  to  present  sym- 
bols and  attestations  of  truths,  learnt  previously  from  deeper 
and  inner  sources.  Thus  the  first  period  of  the  education  of 
our  race  was  evidently  assigned  to  the  cultivation  of  humanity 
itself;  or  of  that  in  man,  which  of  all  known  embodied  crea- 
tures he  alone  possesses,  the  pure  reason,  as  designed  to  regu- 
late the  will.  And  by  what  method  was  this  done.''  First,  by 
the  excitement  of  the  idea  of  their  Creator  as  a  spirit,  of  an 
idea  which  they  were  strictly  forbidden  to  realize  to  themselves 
under  any  image  ;  and,  secondly,  by  the  injunction  of  obedi- 
ence to  the  will  of  a  super-sensual  Being.  Nor  did  the  method 
stop  here.  For,  unless  we  are  equally  to  contradict  Moses  and 
the  New  Testament,  in  compliment  to  the  paradox  of  a  War- 
burton^  the  rewards  of  their  obedience  were  placed  at  a  dis- 
tance. For  the  time  present  they  equally  with  us  were  to 
"  endure^  as  seeing  him  who  is  invisible."  Their  bodies 
they  were  taught  to  consider  as  fleshlj-  tents,  which  as  pilgrims 
they  were  bound  to  pitch  wherever  the  invisible  Director  of 
their  route  should  appoint,  however  barren  or  thorny  the  spot 
might  appear.  "  Few  and  evil  have  the  days  of  the  years  of 
my  life  been,"  says  the  aged  Israel.  But  that  life  was  but  "his 
pilgrimage  ;  and  he  trusted  in  the  promises.'''' 

Thus  were  the  very  first  lessons  in  the  Divine  School  assign- 


440 

ed  to  the  cultivation  of  the  reason  and  of  the  will :  or  rather 
of  both  as  united  in  Faith.  The  common  and  ultimate  object 
of  the  will  and  of  the  reason  was  purely  spiritual,  and  to  be 
present  in  the  mind  of  the  disciple — /xo'vov  iv  lo^a^  ij/riSc/.txY]  sidoj'kixCig 
i.  e.  in  the  idea  alone,  and  never  as  an  image  or  imagination. 
The  means  too,  by  which  the  idea  was  to  be  excited,  as  well 
as  the  symbols  by  which  it  was  to  be  communicated,  were  to  be, 
as  far  as  possible,  intellectual. 

Those,  on  the  contrary,  v»'ho  willfully  chose  a  mode  opposite 
to  this  method,  who  determined  to  shape  their  convictions  and 
deduce  their  knowledge  from  without,  by  exclusive  observa- 
tion of  outward  and  sensible  things  as  the  only  realities,  be- 
came, it  appears,  rapidly  civilized !  They  built  cities,  invent- 
ed musical  instruments,  were  artificers  in  brass  and  in  iron,  and 
refined  on  the  means  of  sensual  gratification,  and  the  conven- 
iences of  courtly  intercourse.  They  became  the  great  masters 
of  the  AGREEABLE,  whicli  fratemizcd  readily  with  cruelty  and 
rapacity :  these  being,  indeed,  but  alternate  moods  of  the 
same  sensual  selfishness.  Thus,  both  befoie  and  after  the 
flood,  the  vicious  ol  mankind  receded  from  all  true  cultivation, 
as  they  hurried  towards  civilization.  Finally,  as  it  was  not  in 
their  power  to  make  themselves  wholly  beasts,  or  to  remain 
without  a  semblance  of  religion  ;  and  yet  continuing  faithful  to 
their  original  maxim,  and  determined  to  receive  nothing  as 
true,  but  what  they  derived,  or  believed  themselves  to  derive 
from  their  senses,  or  (in  modern  phrase)  what  they  could 
prove  a  posteriori, — they  became  idolaters  of  the  Heavens 
and  the  material  elements.  From  the  harmony  of  operation 
they  concluded  a  certain  unity  of  nature  and  design,  but  were 
incapable  of  finding  in  the  facts  any  proof  of  a  unity  of  per- 
son. They  did  not,  in  this  respect,  pretend  to  find  what  they 
must  themselves  have  first  assumed.  Having  thrown  away  the 
clusters,  which  had  grown  in  the  vinejard  of  revelation,  they 
could  not — as  later  reasoners,  by  being  born  in  a  Christian 
country,  have  been  enableld  to  do — hang  the  grapes  on  thorns, 
and  then  pluck  them  as  the  native  growth  of  the  bushes.  But 
the  men  of  sense,  of  the  patriarchal  times,  neglecting  reason 
and  having  rejected  faith,  adopted  what  the  facts  seemed  to  in- 
volve and  the  most  obvious  analogies  to  suggest.  They  ac- 
knowledged a  whole  bee-hive  of  natural  Gods ;    but  while  they 


441 

were  employed  in  building  a  temple*  consecrated  to  the  mate- 
rial Heavens,  it  pleased  divine  wisdom  to  send  on  them  a  con- 
fusion of  lip,  accompanied  with  the  usual  embitterment  of  con- 
troversy, where  all  parties  are  in  the  wrong,  and  the  grounds 
of  the  quarrel  are  equally  plausible  on  all  sides.  As  the  modes 
of  error  are  endless,  the  hundred  forms  of  Polytheism  had  each 
its  group  of  partizans  who,  hostile  or  alienated,  henceforward 
formed  separate  tribes  kept  aloof  from  each  other  by  their  am- 
bitious leaders.  Hence  arose,  in  the  course  of  a  few  centuries, 
the  diversity  of  languages,  which  has  sometimes  been  confoun- 
ded with  the  miraculous  event  that  was  indeed  its  first  and 
principal,  though  remote,  cause. 

Following  next,  and  as  the  representative  of  the  youth  and 
approaching  manhood  of  the  human  intellect,  we  have  ancient 
Greece,  from  Orpheus,  Linus,  Musseus,  and  the  other  mytholo- 
gical bards,  or  perhaps  the  brotherhoods  impersonated  under 
those  names,  to  the  time  when  the  republics  lost  their  indepen- 
dence, and  their  learned  men  sunk  into  copyists  and  commenta- 
tors of  the  works  of  their  forefathers.  That  we  include  these  as 
educated  under  a  distinct  providential,  though  not  miraculous, 
dispensation,  will  surprise  no  one,  who  reflects  that  in  whatever 
has  a  permanent  operation  on  the  destinies  and  intellectual  con- 
dition of  mankind  at  large — that  in  all  which  has  been  mani- 
festly employed  as  a  co-agent  in  the  mightiest  revolution  of  the 
moral  world,  the  propagation  of  the  Gospel  ;  and  in  the  intel- 
lectual progress  of  mankind,  the  restoration  of  Philosophy, 
Science,  and  the  ingenuous  Arts — it  were  irreligion  not  to  ac- 
knowledge the  hand  of  divine  Providence.  The  periods,  too, 
join  on  to  each  other.     The  earliest  Greeks  took  up  the  religious 


*We  are  fur  from  being  Hiitchiiisoniaiis,  nor  have  we  found  much  to  res- 
pect in  tlie  twelve  volumes  of  Hutchinson's  works,  either  as  bibhcal  com- 
ment or  natural  pliilosopliy:  though  we  give  him  credit  for  orthodoxy  and 
good  intentions.  But  his  interpretation  of  the  first  nine  verses  of  Genesis 
xi.  seenjs  not  only  rational  in  itself,  and  consistent  with  after  accounts  of  the 
sacred  historian,  but  proved  to  be  the  literal  sense  of  the  Hebrew  text.  His 
explanation  of  the  cherubim  is  pleasing  and  plausible:  we  dare  not  say  more. 
Those  who  would  wish  to  learn  the  most  important  points  of  the  Hutchin- 
sonian  doctrine  in  the  most  favorable  form,  and  in  the  shortest  possil)le  space, 
we  can  refer  to  Duncan  Forbes's  Letter  to  a  bishop.  If  our  own  judgement 
did  not  withhold  our  assent,  we  should  never  be  ashamed  of  a  conviction 
held,  professed,  and  advocated  by  so  good,  and  wise  a  man,  as  Duncan 
Forbes. 

56 


442 

and  lyrical  poetry  of  the  Hebrews ;  and  the  schools  of  the 
Prophets  were,  however  partially  and  imperfectly,  represented 
by  the  mysteries,  derived  through  the  corrupt  channel  of  the 
Phccnicians.  With  these  secret  schools  of  physiological  theo- 
logy the  mythical  poets  were  doubtless  in  connection :  and  it 
was  these  schools,  which  prevented  Polytheism  from  producing 
all  its  natural  barbarizing  effects.  The  mysteries  and  the  my- 
thical Hymns  and  Pagans  shaped  themselves  gradually  into 
epic  Poetry  and  History  on  the  one  hand,  and  into  the  ethical 
Tragedy  and  Philosophy  on  the  other.  Under  their  protection, 
and  that  of  a  youthful  liberty  secretly  controlled  by  a  species  of 
internal  Theocracy,  the  Sciences  and  the  sterner  kinds  of  the 
Fine  Arts  ;  viz.  Architecture  and  Statuary,  grew  up  together  : 
followed,  indeed,  by  Painting,  but  a  statuesque  and  austerely 
idealized  painting,  which  did  not  degenerate  into  mere  copies 
of  the  sense,  till  the  process,  for  which  Greece  existed,  had 
been  completed.  Contrast  the  rapid  progress  and  perfection  of 
all  the  products,  which  owe  their  existence  and  character  to 
the  mind's  own  acts,  intellectual  or  imaginative,  with  the  rude- 
ness of  their  application  to  the  investigation  of  physical  laws  and 
phsenomena:  then  contemplate  the  Greeks  {Vpuioi  ast  Trails?)  as 
representing  a  portion  only  of  the  education  of  man  :  and  the 
conclusion  is  inevitable. 

In  the  education  of  the  mind  of  the  race,  as  in  that  of  the  indi- 
vidual, each  different  age  and  purpose  requires  different  objects 
and  different  means  :  though  all  dictated  by  the  same  principle, 
tending  toward  the  same  end,  and  forming  consecutive  parts  of 
the  same  method.  But  if  the  scale  taken  be  sufficiently  large  to 
neutralize  or  render  insignificant  the  disturbing  forces  of  acci- 
dent, the  degree  of  success  is  the  best  criterion  by  which  to 
appreciate,  both  the  wisdom  of  the  general  principle,  and  the 
fitness  of  the  particular  objects  to  the  given  epoch  or  period. 
Now  it  is  a  fact,  for  the  greater  part  of  universal  acceptance,  and 
attested  as  to  the  remainder  by  all  that  is  of  highest  fame  and 
authority,  by  the  great,  wise,  and  good,  during  a  space  of  at 
least  seventeen  centuries— weighed  against  whom  the  opinions 
of  a  few  distinguished  individuals,  or  the  fashion  of  a  single 
age,  must  be  held  light  in  the  balance,— that  whatever  could 
be  educed  by  the  mind  out  of  its  own  essence,  by  attention  to 
its  own  acts  and  laws  of  action,  or  as  the  products  of  the  same  ; 
and  whatever  likewise  could  be  reflected  from  material  masses 


\ 
\ 


443 

transformed  as  it  were  into  mirrors,  the  excellence  of  which  is 
to  reveal,  in  the  least  possible  degree,  their  own  original  forms 
and  natures — all  these,  whether  arts  or  sciences,  the  ancient 
Greeks  carried  to  an  almost  ideal  perfection  :  while  in  the  appli- 
cation of  their  skill  and  science  to  the  investigation  of  the  laws 
of  the  sensible  world,  and  the  qualities  and  composition  of  ma- 
terial concretes,  chemical,  mechanical,  or  organic,  their  essays 
were  crude  and  improsperous,  compared  with  those  of  the  mo- 
derns during  the  early  morning  of  thei?'  strength,  and  even  at 
the  first  re-ascension  of  the  light.  But  still  more  striking  will 
the  difference  appear,  if  we  contrast  the  physiological  schemes 
and  fancies  of  the  Greeks  with  their  own  discoveries  in  the  re- 
gion of  the  pure  intellect,  and  with  their  still  unrivalled  success 
in  arts  of  imagination.  In  the  aversion  of  their  great  men  from 
any  practical  use  of  their  philosophic  discoveries,  as  in  the  well- 
known  instance  of  Archimedes,  "  the  soul  of  the  world"  was 
at  work  ;  and  the  few  exceptions  were  but  as  a  rush  of  billows 
driven  shoreward  by  some  chance  gust  before  the  hour  of  tide, 
instantly  retracted,  and  leaving  the  sands  bare  and  soundless 
long  after  the  momentary  glitter  had   been  lost  in  evaporation. 

The  third  period,  that  of  the  Romans,  was  devoted  to  the 
preparations  for  preserving,  propagating,  and  realizing  the  la- 
bors of  the  preceding ;  to  war,  empire,  law !  To  this  we  may 
refer  the  defect  of  all  originality  in  the  Latin  poets  and  philo- 
sophers, on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other,  the  predilection  of 
the  Romans  for  astrology,  magic,  divination,  in  all  its  forms.  It 
was  the  Roman  instinct  to  appropriate  by  conquest  and  to  give 
fixture  by  legislation.  And  it  was  the  bewilderment  and  pre- 
maturity of  the  same  instinct  which  restlessly  impelled  them 
to  materialize  the  ideas  of  the  Greek  philosophers,  and  to  ren- 
der them  practical  by  superstitious  uses. 

Thus  the  Hebrews  may  be  regarded  as  the  fixed  mid  point  of 
the  living  line,  toward  which  the  Greeks  as  the  ideal  pole,  and 
the  Romans  as  the  material^  were  ever  approximating  ;  till  the 
co-incidence  and  final  synthesis  took  place  in  Christianity,  of 
which  the  Bible  is  the  law,  and  Christendom  the  phsenome- 
non.  So  little  confirmation  from  History,  from  the  process  of 
education  planned  and  conducted  by  unerring  Providence,  do 
those  theorists  receive,  who  Avould  at  least  begin  (too  many, 
alas!  both  begin  and  end)  Avith  the  objects  of  the  senses  ;  as 
if  nature  herself   had   not   abundantly  performed   this  part  of 


444 

the  task,  by  continuous,  irresistible  enforcements  of  attention 
to  her  presence,  to  the  direct  beholding,  to  the  apprehension 
and  observation,  of  the  objects  that  stimulate  the  senses!  as  if 
the  cultivation  of  the  mental  powers,  by  methodical  exercise 
of  their  own  forces,  were  not  the  securest  means  of  forming  the 
true  correspondents  to  them  in  the  functions  of  comparison, 
judgment,  and  interpretation. 


ESSAY   XI. 


Sapimus  aniino,  fruimur  anima :  sine  ammo  anima  est  debilis. 

L.  Accii  Fragmenta. 


As  there  are  two  wants  connatural  to  man,  so  are  therp 
main  directions  of  human  activity,  pervading  in  modern  ..oS 
the  whole  civilized  world ;  and  constituting  and  sustaining  that 
nationality  which  yet  it  is  their  tendency,  and,  more  or  less, 
their  effect,  to  transcend  and  to  moderate — Trade  and  Litera- 
ture. These  were  they,  which,  after  the  dismemberment  of  the 
old  Roman  world,  gradually  reduced  the  conquerors  and  the 
conquered  at  once  into  several  nations  and  a  common  Chris- 
tendom. The  natural  law  of  increase  and  the  instincts  of  fam- 
ily may  produce  tribes,  and  under  rare  and  peculiar  circum- 
stances, settlements  and  neighborhoods  :  and  conquest  may  form 
empires.  But  without  trade  and  literature,  mutually  commin- 
gled, there  can  be  no  nation  ;  without  commerce  and  science, 
no  bond  of  nations.  As  the  one  hath  for  its  object  the  wants 
of  the  body,  real  or  artificial,  the  desires  for  which  are  for  the 
greater  part,  nay,  as  far  as  respects  the  origination  of  trade 
and  commerce,  altogether  excited  from  without ;  so  the  other 
lias  for  its  origin,  as  well  as  for  its  object,  the  wants  of  the  mind, 


445 

the  gratification  of  which  is  a  natural  and  necessary  condition  of 
its  growth  and  sanity.     And  the  man  (or  the  nation,  considered 
according  to  its  predominant  character  as  one  man)  may  be  re- 
garded under  these  circumstances,  as  acting  in  two  forms  of  me- 
thod, inseparably  co-existent,  yet  producing  very  difierent  effects 
according  as  one  or  the  other  obtains  the  primacy.*     As  is  the 
rank  assigned  to  each  in  the  theory  and  practice  of  the  governing 
classes,  and,  according  to  its  prevalence  in  forming  the  foundation 
of  their  public  habits  and  opinions,  so  will  be  the  outward  and 
inward  life  of  the  people  at  large  :    such  will  the    nation  be. 
In  tracing  the  epochs,  and  alternations  of  their  relative  sover- 
eignty or  subjection,  consists  the  Philosophy  of  History.     In 
the  power  of  distinguishing  and  appreciating  their  several  re- 
sults consists  the  historic   Sense.     And  that  under  the  ascen- 
dency of  the  mental  and  moral  character  the  commercial  rela- 
tions may  thrive  to  the  utmost  desirable  point,  while  the  re- 
verse is  ruinous  to  both,  and  sooner  or  later  effectuates  the  fall 
or  debasement  of  the  country  itself — this   is  the  richest  truth 
obtained  for  mankind  by  historic  Research  :  though  unhappily 
it  is  the  truth,  to  which    a  rich  and  commercial  nation  listens 
with  most  reluctance    and  receives    with  least  faith.     Where 
the   brain   and  the    immediate   conductors  of  its   influence  re- 
main healthy  and  vigorous,  the  defects  and  diseases  of  the  eye 
will  most  often  admit  either  of  a  cure  or  a  substitute.     And  so 
is  it  with  the  outward  prosperity  of  a  state,  where  the  well-be- 
ing of  the   people   posesses  the  primacy  in  the   aims  of   the 
governing  classes,  and  in  the  public  feeling.     But  what  avails 
the  perfect  state  of  the  eye, 

Tho'  clear 
To  outward  view  of  blemish  or  of  spot, 

where  the  optic  nerve  is  paralyzed  by  a  pressure  on  the  brain } 
And  even  so  is  it  not  only  with  the  well-being,  but  ultimately 
with  the  prosperity  of  a  people,  where  the  former  is  consider- 
ed (if  it  be  considered  at  all)  as  subordinate  and  secondary  to 
wealth  and  revenue. 

In  the  pursuits  of  commerce  the   man   is   called  into  action 

*  The  senses,  the  memory,  and  the  innlerstanding  (i.  e.  the  retentive,  reflec- 
tive, and  judicial  functions  of  his  mind)  heing  common  to  both  methods. 


446 

from  without,  in  order  to  appropriate  the  outward  world,  as  far 
as  he  can  bring  it  within  his  reach,  to  the  purposes  of  his  sen- 
ses and  sensual  nature.  His  ultimate  end  is — appearance  and 
enjoyment.  Where  on  the  other  hand  the  nurture  and  evolu- 
tion of  humanity  is  the  final  aim,  there  will  soon  be  seen  a 
general  tendency  toward,  an  earnest  seeking  after,  some  ground 
common  to  the  world  and  to  man,  therein  to  find  the  one  prin- 
ciple of  permanence  and  identity,  the  rock  of  strength  and  re- 
fuge, to  which  the  soul  m^y  cling  amid  the  fleeting  surge-like 
objects  of  the  senses.  Disturbed  as  by  the  obscure  quickening 
of  an  inward  birth  ;  made  restless  by  swarming  thoughts,  that, 
like  bees  when  they  first  miss  the  queen  and  mother  of  the 
hive,  with  vain  discursion  seek  each  in  the  other  what  is 
the  common  need  of  all ;  man  sallies  forth  into  nature — in  na- 
ture, as  in  the  shadows  and  reflections  of  a  clear  river,  to  dis- 
cover the  originals  of  the  forms  presented  to  him  in  his  own 
intellect.  Over  these  shadows,  as  if  they  were  the  substantial 
powers  and  presiding  spirits  of  the  stream.  Narcissus  like,  he 
hangs  delighted  :  till  finding  nowhere  a  representative  of  that 
free  agency  which  yet  is  a  fact  of  immediate  consciousness 
sanctioned  and  made  fearfully  significant  by  his  prophetic  con- 
science, he  learns  at  last  that  what  he  seeks  he  has  left  behind 
and  but  lengthens  the  distance  as  he  prolongs  the  search.  Un- 
der the  tutorage  of  scientific  analysis,  haply  first  given  to  him 
by  express  revelation  (e  ccelo  descendit,  rNogi  i;eattoa)  he 
separates  the  relations  that  are  wholly  the  creatures  of  his 
own  abstracting  and  comparing  intellect,  and  at  once  discovers 
and  recoils  from  the  discovery,  that  the  reality,  the  objective 
truth,  of  the  objects  he  has  been  adoring,  derives  its  whole 
and  sole  evidence  from  an  obscure  sensation,  which  he  isalike 
unable  to  resist  or  to  comprehend,  which  compels  him  to  con- 
template as  without  and  independent  of  himself  wiiat  yet  he 
could  not  contemplate  at  all,  were  it  not  a  modification  of  his 
own  being.  ■ 

Earth  fills  her  lap  with  pleasures  of  her  own ; 
Yearnings  she  hatli  i)i  her  own  natural  kind, 
And,  even  with  something  of  a  Mother's  mind, 
And  no  unworthy  aim, 
The  homely  Nurse  doth  all  she  can 
To  make  her  Foster-child,  her  Inmate  Man, 
Forget  the  glories  he  hath  known, 


447 

And  that  iniporial  palace  ^vlieiice  he  came. 

***** 

O  joy  !  that  in  our  embers 
Is  something  that  doth  live, 
That  nature  yet  remembers 
What  was  so  fugitive ! 

The  thought  of  our  past  years  in  me  doth  breed 
Perpetual  benedictions :  not  indeed 
For  that  which  is  most  worthy  to  be  blest ; 
Delight  and  liberty,  the  simple  creed 
Of  childhood,  whether  busy  or  at  rest, 
With  new-fledged  hope  still  fluttering  in  his  breast : — 
Not  for  these  I  raise 
The  song  of  thanks  and  praise , 
But  for  those  obstinate  questionings 
Of  sense  and  outward  things, 
Fallings  from  us,  vanisliings  ; 
Blank  inisgivings  of  a  Creature 
Moving  about  in  worlds  not  realized. 
High  instincts,  before  which  our  mortal  Nature 
Did  tremble  like  a  guilty  Thing  surprized ! 
But  for  those  first  affections, 
Those  shadowy  recollections. 

Which,  be  they  what  they  may. 
Are  yet  the  fountain  light  of  all  our  day. 
Are  yet  a  master  light  of  all  our  seeing ; 

Uphold  us — cherish — and  have  power  to  make 
Our  noisy  years  seem  moments  in  the  being 
Of  the  eternal  Silence :  triiths  that  wake. 

To  perish  never ; 
Which  neither  listlessness,  nor  mad  endeavour. 

Nor  Man  nor  Boy, 
Nor  all  that  is  at  enmity  with  joy, 
Can  utterly  abolish  or  destroy! 

Hence,  in  a  season  of  calm  weather. 
Though  inland  far  we  be, 
Our  souls  have  sight  of  that  immortal  sea 
Which  l)rought  us  hither  ; 
Can  in  a  moment  travel  thither — 
And  sec  the  Children  sport  upon  the  shore. 
And  hear  the  mighty  waters  rolling  evermore. 

Wordsworth.  * 

*  During  my  residence  in  Rome  I  had  the  pleasure  of  reciting  this  sublime 
ode  to  the  illustrious  Baron  Von  Humboldt,  then  the  Prussian  minister  at  the 
])apal  couit,  and  now  at  the  court  of  St.  .hunes's.     By  those  who  knew  and 


448 

Long  indeed  will  man  strive  to  satisfy  the  inward  querist  with 
the  phrase,  laws  of  nature.  But  though  the  individual  may  rest 
content  with  the  seemly  metaphor,  the  race  cannot.  If  a  law 
of  nature  he  a  mere  generalization,  it  is  included  in  the  above 
as  an  act  of  the  mind.  But  if  it  be  other  and  more,  and  yet 
manifestable  only  in  and  to  an  intelligent  spirit,  it  must  in  act 
and  substance  be  itself  spiritual  :  for  things  utterly  heteroge- 
neous can  have  no  intercommunion.  In  order  therefore  to  the 
recognition  of  himself  in  nature  man  must  first  learn  to  com- 
j)rehend  nature  in  himself,  and  its  laws  in  the  ground  of  his 
own  existence.  Then  only  can  he  reduce  Phsenomenato  Prin- 
ciples— then  only  will  he  have  achieved  the  method,  the  self- 
unravelling  clue,  which  alone  can  securely  guide  him  to  the 
conquest  of  the  former — when  he  has  discovered  in  the  basis 
of  their  union  the  necessity  of  their  differences  ;  in  the  prin- 
ciple of  their  continuance  the  solution  of  their  changes.  It  is 
the  idea  of  the  common  centre,  of  the  universal  law,  by  which 
all  power  manifests  itself  in  opposite  yet  interdependent  forces 
(y)  ya^  ATA2  asi  'Xa^a  Movoc(5i  xaSrjra;,  xai  voJ»a;j  ag'^a-rrei  Toaaij)  that  en- 
lightening enquiry,  multiplying  experiment,  and  at  once  inspir- 
ing humility  and  perseverance  will  lead  him  to  comprehend 
gradually  and  progressively  the  relation  of  each  to  the  other, 
of  each  to  all,  and  of  all  to  each. 

Such  is  the  second  of  the  two  possible  directions  in  which 
the  activity  of  man  propels  itself:  and  either  in  one  or  other 
of  the  sechannels — or  in  some  one  of  the  rivulets  which  not  with- 
standing their  occasional  refluence  (and  though,  as  in  successive 
schematisms  of  Becher,  Stahl,  and  Lavoisier,  the  varying  stream 

honoierl  I)oth  the  brothers,  the  talents  of  the  ])leiiipotentiary  were  held  equal 
to  those  of  the  scientific  traveller,  his  judgment  superior.  I  can  only  say,  that 
I  know  few  Englishmen,  whom  I  could  compare  with  him  in  the  extensive 
knowledge  and  just  appreciation  of  English  literature  and  its  various  epochs. 
He  listened  to  the  ode  with  evident  delight,  and  as  evidently  not  wi  hont  sur- 
prise, and  at  the  close  of  the  recitation  exclaimed,  "  And  is  this  the  work  of  a 
living  English  poet?  I  should  have  attributed  it  to  the  age  of  Elizabeth  not 
that  1  recollect  any  writer,  whose  style  it  resen)l)lcs ;  but  rather  with  wonder; 
that  so  great  and  original  a  poet  should  have  escaped  my  notice." — Often  as  I 
repeat  i)assages  from  it  to  myself"  I  recur  to  the  words  of  Dante  : 

Canzon  !  io  eredo,  che  saranno  radi 

Che  tua  ragioiie  bene  intenderanno: 

Tanto  lor  sei  faticoso  ed  alto. 


449 

may  for  a  time  appear  to  comprehend  and  inisle  eome  particular 
department  of  knowledge  which  even  tlien  it  only  peninsulates) 
are  yet  flowing  towards  this  mid  channel,  and  will  ultimately  fall 
into  it — all  intellectual  method  has  its  bed,  its  banks,  and  its 
line  of  progression.  For  be  it  not  forgotten,  that  this  discourse  is 
confined  to  the  evolutions  and  ordonnance  of  knowledge,  as  pre- 
scribed by  the  constitution  of  the  human  intellect.  Whether  there 
be  a  correspondent  reality,  whether  the  Knowing  of  the  Mind 
has  its  correlative  in  the  Being  of  Nature,  doubts  may  be  felt. 
Never  to  have  felt  them,  would  indeed  betray  an  unconscious 
unbelief,  which  traced  to  its  extreme  roots  will  be  seen  ground- 
ed in  a  latent  disbelief.  How  should  it  not  be  so  ?  if  to  conquer 
these  doubts,  and  out  of  the  confused  multiplicity  of  seeing  with 
which  "the  films  of  corruption"  bewilder  us,  and  out  of  the 
unsubstantial  shows  of  existence,  which,  like  the  shadow  of  an 
eclipse,  or  the  chasms  in  the  sun's  atmosphere,  are  but  nega- 
tions of  sight,  to  attain  that  singleness  of  eye,  with  which  "  the 
whole  body  shall  he  full  of  light,''''  be  the  purpose,  the  means, 
and  the  end  of  our  probation,  the  method  which  is  "  profitable 
to  all  things,  and  hath  the  promise  in  this  life  and  in  the  life  to 
come!"  Imagine  the  unlettered  African,  or  rude  yet  musing 
Indian,  poring  over  an  illumined  manuscript  of  the  inspired  vo- 
lume, with  the  vague  yet  deep  impression  that  his  fates  aud  for- 
tunes are  in  some  unknown  manner  connected  with  its  contents. 
Every  tint,  every  group  of  characters  has  its  several  dream. 
Say  that  after  long  and  dissatisfying  toils,  he  begins  to  sort, 
first  the  paragraphs  that  appear  to  resemble  each  other,  then 
the  lines,  the  words — nay,  that  he  has  at  length  discovered  that 
the  whole  is  formed  by  the  recurrence  and  interchanges  of  a 
limited  number  of  cyphers,  letters,  marks,  and  points,  which, 
however,  in  the  very  height  and  utmost  perfection  of  his  attain- 
ment, he  makes  twenty  fold  more  numerous  than  they  are,  by 
classing  every  dilTerent  form  of  the  same  character,  intentional 
or  accidental,  as  a  separate  element.  And  the  whole  is  with- 
out soul  or  substance,  a  talisman  of  superstition,  a  mockery  of 
science  :  or  employed  perhaps  at  last  to  feather  the  arrovvs  of 
death,  or  to  shine  and  flutter  amid  the  plumes  of  savage  vanityt 
The  poor  Indian  too  truly  represents  the  state  of  learned  and 
systematic  ignorance — arrangement  guided  by  the  light  of  no 
leading  idea,  mere  orderliness  without  method  ! 

But  see  !  the  friendly  missionary  arrives.     He  explains  to  him 
57 


450 

the  nature  of  written  words,  translates  them  for  him  into  his 
native  sounds,  and  thence  into  the  thoughts  of  his  heart — how 
many  of  these  thoughts  then  first  evolved  into  consciousness, 
which  yet  the  awakening  disciple  receives,  and  not  as  aliens ! 
Henceforward,  the  book  is  unsealed  for  him  ;  the  depth  is 
opened  out ;  he  communes  with  the  spirit  of  the  volume  as  a 
living  oracle.  The  words  become  transparent,  and  he  sees 
them  as  though  he  saw  them  not. 

We  have  thus  delineated  the  two  great  directions  of  man 
and  society  with  their  several  objects  and  ends.  Concerning 
the  conditions  and  principles  of  method  appertaining  to  each, 
we  have  affirmed  (for  the  facts  hitherto  adduced  have  been  ra- 
ther for  illustration  than  for  evidence,  to  make  our  position 
distinctly  understood  rather  than  to  enforce  the  conviction  of 
its  truth)  that  in  both  there  must  be  a  mental  antecedent;  but 
that  in  the  one  it  may  be  an  image  or  conception  received 
through  the  senses,  and  originating  from  without,  the  inspirit- 
ing passion  or  desire  being  alone  the  immediate  and  proper 
offspring  of  the  mind  ;  while  in  the  other  the  initiative  thought, 
the  intellectual  seed,  must  itself  have  its  birth-place  within, 
whatever  excite  ent  from  without  may  be  necessary  for  its 
germination.  Will  the  soul  thus  awakened  neglect  or  under- 
value the  outward  and  conditional  causes  of  her  growth  ?  For 
rather,  might  we  dare  borrow  a  wild  fancy  from  the  Mantuan 
bard,  or  the  poet  of  Arno,  will  it  be  with  her,  as  if  a  stem  or 
trunk,  suddenly  endued  with  sense  and  reflection,  should  con- 
template its  green  shoots,  their  leaflets  andbudding  blossoms, 
wondered  at  as  then  first  noticed,  but  welcomed  nevertheless 
as  its  own  growth  :  while  yet  with  undiminished  gratitude,  and 
a  deepend  sense  of  dependency,  it  would  bless  the  dews  and 
the  sunshine  from  without,  deprived  of  the  awakening  and  fos- 
tering excitement  of  which,  its  own  productivity  would  have 
remained  for  ever  hidden  from  itself,  or  felt  only  as  the  ob- 
scure trouble  of  a  baffled  instinct. 

Hast  thou  ever  raised  thy  mind  to  the  consideration  of  ex- 
istence, in  and  by  itself,  as  the  mere  act  of  existing?  Hast 
thou  ever  said  to  thyself  thoughtfully,  it  is  !  heedless  in  that 
moment,  whether  it  were  a  man  before  thee,  or  a  flower,  or  a 
grain  of  sand  ?  Without  reference,  in  short,  to  this  or  that  par- 
ticular mode  or  form  of  existence  ?  If  thou  hast  indeed  at- 
tained 10  this,  thou  wilt  have  felt  the  presence  of  a  mystery, 


451 

which  must  have  fixed  thy  spirit  in  awe  and  wonder.  The  ve- 
ry words,  There  is  nothing  !  or,  There  was  a  time,  when  there 
was  nothing  !  are  self-contradictory.  There  is  that  within  us 
which  repels  the  proposition  with  as  full  and  instantaneous 
light,  as  if  it  bore  evidence  aginst  the  fact  in  the  right  of  its 
own  eternity. 

Not  TO  BE,  then,  is  impossible:  TO,  BE,  incomprehensi- 
ble. If  thou  hast  mastered  this  intuition  of  absolute  existence, 
thou  wilt  have  learnt  likewise,  that  it  was  this,  and  no  other, 
which  in  the  earlier  ages  seized  the  nobler  minds,  the  elect 
among  men,  with  a  sort  of  sacred  horror.  This  it  was  which 
first  caused  them  to  feel  within  themselves  a  something  ineffa- 
bly greater  than  their  own  individual  nature.  It  was  this 
which,  raising  them  aloft,  and  projecting  them  to  an  ideal  dis- 
tance from  themselves,  prepared  them  to  become  the  lights  and 
awakening  voices  of  other  men,  the  founders  of  law  and  re- 
ligion, the  educators  and  foster-gods  of  mankind.  The  power, 
which  evolved  this  idea  of  Being,  Being  in  its  essence.  Be- 
ing limitless,  comprehending  its  own  limits  in  its  dilatation, 
and  condensing  itself  into  its  own  apparent  mounds — how  shall 
we  name  it  ?  The  idea  itself,  which  like  a  mighty  billow  at 
once  overwhelms  and  beai  s  aloft — what  is  it  ?  Whence  did  it 
come  ?  In  vain  would  we  derive  it  from  the  organs  of  sense  : 
for  these  supply  otily  surfaces,  undulations,  phantoms  !  In  vain 
from  the  instruments  of  sensation  :  for  these  furnish  only  the 
chaos,  the  shapeless  elements  of  sense  !  And  least  of  all  may 
we  hope  to  find  its  origin,  or  suJEcient  cause,  in  the  moulds 
and  mechanism  of  the  understanding,  the  whole  purport  and 
functions  of  which  consists  in  individualization,  in  outlines  and 
differencings  by  quantity,  quality  and  relation.  It  were  wiser 
to  seek  substance  in  shadow,  than  absolute  fulness  in  mere  ne- 
gation . 

We  have  asked  then  for  its  birth-place  in  all  that  constitutes 
our  relative  individuality,  in  all  that  each  man  calls  exclusively 
himself.  It  is  an  alien  of  which  they  know  not :  and  for  them 
the  question  itself  is  purposeless,  and  the  very  words  that  con- 
vey it  are  as  sounds  in  an  unknown  language,  or  as  the  vision 
of  heaven  and  earth  expanded  by  the  rising  sun,  which  falls 
but  as  warmth  on  the  eye-lids  of  the  blind.  To  no  class  of 
phenomena  or  particulars  can  it  be  referred,  itself  being  none  : 
therefore,  to  no  faculty  by  which  these  alone  are  apprehend- 


453 

ed.  As  little  dare  we  refer  it  to  any  form  of  abstraction  or  gen- 
eralization :  for  it  has  neither  co-ordinate  or  analogon !  It  is  ab- 
solutely one,  and  that  it  is,  and  affirms  itself  to  be,  is  its  only 
predicate.  And  yet  this  power  nevertheless,  is!  In  eminence 
of  Being  it  IS  !  And  he  for  whom  it  manifests  itself  in  its 
adequate  idea,  dare  as  little  arrogate  it  to  himself  as  his  own, 
can  as  little  appropriate  it  either  totally  or  by  partition,  as  he 
can  claim  owneiship  in  the  breathing  air,  or  make  an  enclo- 
sure in  the  cope  of  heaven.*  He  bears  witness  of  it  to  his 
own  mind,  even  as  he  describes  life  and  light :  and,  with  the 
silence' of  light,  it  describes  itself  and  dwells  in  us  only  as  far 
as  we  dwell  in  it.  The  truths  which  it  manifests  are  such  as 
it  alone  can  manifest,  and  in  all  truth  it  manifests  itself.  By 
what  name  then  canst  thou  call  a  truth  so  manifested  ?  Is  it 
not  REVELATION  ?  Ask  thysclf  whether  thou  canst  attach  to 
that  latter  word  any  consistent  meaning  not  included  in  the 
idea  of  the  former.  And  the  manifesting  power,  the  source 
and  the  correlative  of  the  idea  thus  manifested — is  it  not  GOD  ? 
Either  thou  knowest  it  to  be  GOD,  or  thou  hast  called  an  idol 
by  that  awful  name  !  Therefore  in  the  most  appropriate,  no 
less  than  in  the  highest,  sense  of  the  word  were  the  earliest 
teachers  of  humanity  inspired.  They  alone  were  the  true  seers 
of  GOD,  and  therefore  prophets  of  the  human  race. 

Look  round  you  and  you  behold  every  where  an  adaptation 
of  means  to  ends.  Meditate  on  the  nature  of  a  Being  whose 
ideas  are  creative,  and  consequently  more  real,  more  substan- 
tial than  the  things  that,  at  the  height  of  their  creaturely  state, 
aie  but  their  dim  reflexes  :f   and  the  intuitive  conviction  will  a- 

*Sec  p.  11 — 19  of  the  Appendix  to  the  Statesman's  Manual;  and  p.  47 — 
52  of  tlic  second  Lay- Sermon. 

f  If  we  may  not  rathei*  reseml)]e  tliem  to  the  resurgent  ashes,  with  which 
(according  to  the  tales  of  the  hitcr  alchemists)  the  substantial  forms  of  bird 
and  flower  made  themselves  visible, 

""fig  Tu    y.uxtfg  "vhjg  (IXaci]' fnaa  /or/i^u    y.<u  saO^lu'. 

And  let  me  l)e  permitted  to  add,  in  especial  reference  to  this  passage,  a  pre- 
monition quoted  from  the  same  work  (Zoroastri  Oracula,  Francisci  Patricii) 

"_,4  Nov';  IsyFi,  tco  voovrji  d)f  nti  liyet. 

Of  the  flower  api)aritions  so  solenmly  aflirmed  by  Sir  K.  Digby,  Kercher, 
Ilelmont,  &c.  see  a  full  and  most  interesting  account  in  Southey's  Onniiana, 
with  a  probable  solution  of  this  chemical  marvel. 


453 

rise  that  in  such  a  Being  there  could  exist  no  motive  to  the  cre- 
ation of  a  machine  for  its  own  sake  ;  that  therefore,  the  mate- 
rial world  must  have  been  made  for  the  sake  of  man,  at  once 
the  high-priest  and  representative  of  the  Creator,  as  far  as  he 
partakes  of  that  reason  in  which  the  essences  of  all  things  co- 
exist in  all  their  distinctions  yet  as  one  and  indivisible.  But 
I  speak  of  man  in  his  idea,  and  as  subsumed  in  the  divine  hu- 
manity, in  whom  alone  God  loved  the  world. 

If  then  in  all  inferior  things,  from  the  grass  on  the  housetop 
to  the  giant  tree  of  the  forest,  to  the  eagle  which  builds  in  its 
summit,  and  the  elephant  which  browses  on  its  branches,  we 
behold — first,  a  subjection  to  the  universal  laws  by  which  each 
thing  belongs  to  the  Whole,  as  interpenetrated  by  the  powers 
of  the  Whole  ;  and,  secondly  the  intervention  of  particular 
laws  by  which  the  universal  laws  are  suspended  or  tempered 
for  the  weal  and  sustenance  of  each  particular  class,  and  by 
which  each  species,  and  each  individual  of  every  species,  be- 
comes a  system  in  and  for  itself,  a  world  of  its  own — if  we 
behold  this  economy  everywhere  in  the  irrational  creation, 
shall  we  not  hold  it  probable  that  a  similar  temperament  of  uni- 
versal and  general  laws  by  an  adequate  intervention  of  appro- 
priate agency,  will  have  been  effected  for  the  permanent  inter- 
est of  the  creature  destined  to  move  progressively  towards  that 
divine  idea  which  we  have  learnt  to  contemplate  as  the  final 
cause  of  all  creation,  and  the  centre  in  which  all  its  lines  con- 
verge ? 

To  discover  the  mode  of  intervention  requisite  for  man's  de- 
velopement  and  progression,  we  must  seek  then  for  some  gen- 
eral law  by  the  unterapered  and  uncounteracted  action  of  which 
both  would  be  prevented  and  endangered.  But  this  we  shall 
find  in  that  law  of  his  understanding  and  fancy,  by  which  he  is 
impelled  to  abstract  the  outward  relations  of  matter  and  to  ar- 
range these  phenomena  in  time  and  space,  under  the  form  of 
causes  and  effects.  And  this  was  necessary,  as  being  the  con- 
dition under  which  alone  experience  and  intellectual  growth 
are  possible.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  by  the  same  law  he  is 
inevitably  tempted  to  misinteiprct  a  constant  precedence  into 
positive  causation,  and  thus  to  break  and  scatter  the  one  divine 
and  invisible  life  of  nature  into  countless  idols  of  the  sense  ; 
and  falling  prostrate  before  lifeless  images,  the  creatures  of  his 
own  abstraction,   is  himself  sensualized,  and   becomes  a  slave 


454 

to  the  things  of  which  he  was  formed  to  be  (he  conqueror  and 
sovereign.  From  the  fetisch  of  the  imbruted  African  to  the 
soul  debasing  errors  of  the  proud  fact-hunting  materialist  we 
may  trace  the  various  ceremonials  of  the  same  idolatry,  and 
shall  find  selfishness,  hate  and  servitude  as  the  results.  If, 
therefore,  by  the  over-ruling  and  suspension  of  the  phantom- 
cause  of  this  superstition  ;  if  by  separating  effects  from  their 
natural  antecedents  ;  if  by  presenting  the  phenomena  of  time  (as 
far  as  is  possible)  in  the  absolute  forms  of  eternity  ;  the  nurs- 
ling of  experience  should,  in  the  early  period  of  his  pupilage, 
be  compelled,  by  a  more  impressive  experience,  to  seek  in  the 
invisible  life  alone  for  the  true  cause  and  invisible  Nexus  of  the 
things  that  are  seen,  we  shall  not  demand  the  evidences  of  or- 
dinary experience  for  that  which,  if  it  ever  existed,  existed  as 
its  antithesis  and  for  its  counteraction.  Was  it  an  appropriate 
mean  to  a  necessary  end  ?  lias  it  been  attested  by  lovers  of 
truth  ;  has  it  been  believed  by  lovers  of  wisdom  ?  Do  we  see 
throughout  all  nature  the  occasional  intervention  of  particular 
agencies  in  counter-check  of  universal  laws?  (And  of  what 
other  definition  is  a  miracle  susceptible  ?)  These  are  the  ques- 
tions :  and  if  to  these  our  answer  must  be  affirmative,  then  we 
too  will  acquiesce  in  the  traditions  of  humanity,  and  yielding, 
as  to  a  high  interest  of  our  own  being,  will  discipline  ourselves 
to  the  reverential  and  kindly  faith,  that  the  guides  and  teachers 
of  mankind  were  the  hands  of  power,  no  less  than  the  voices 
of  inspiration  :  and  little  anxious  concerning  the  particular 
forms  and  circumstances  of  each  manifestation  we  will  give  an 
histoiic  credence  to  the  historic  fact,  that  men  sent  by  God 
have  come  with  signs  and  wonders  on  the  earth. 

If  it  be  objected,  that  in  nature,  as  distinguished  from  man, 
this  intervention  of  particular  laws  is,  or  with  the  increase  of 
science  will  be,  resolvable  into  the  universal  laws  which  they 
had  appeared  to  counterbalance — we  will  reply  :  Even  so  it 
may  be  in  the  case  of  miracles  ;  but  wisdom  forbids  her  children 
to  antedate  their  knowledge,  or  to  act  and  feel  otherwise,  or 
further  than  they  know.  But  should  that  time  arrive,  the  sole 
difference,  that  could  result  irom  such  an  enlargement  of  our 
view,  would  be  this  :  that  what  we  now  consider  as  jniracles 
in  opposition  to  ordinary  experience,  we  should  then  reverence 
with  a  yet  higher  devotion  as  harmonious  parts  of  one  great 
complex  miracle,  when  the  antithesis  between  experience  and 


455 

belief  would  itself  be   taken  up  into  the  unity  of  intuitive  rea- 
son. 

And  what  purpose  of  philosophy  can  this  acqiescence  answer  ? 
A  gracious  purpose,  a  most  valuable  end  :  if  it  prevent  the  en- 
ergies of  philosophy  from  being  idly  wasted,  by  removing  the 
opposition  without  confounding  the  distinction  between  philoso- 
phy and  faith.  The  philosopher  will  remain  a  man  in  sympa- 
thy with  his  fellow  men.  The  head  will  not  be  disjoined  from 
the  heart,  nor  will  speculative  truth  be  alienated  from  practical 
wisdom.  And  vainly  without  the  union  of  both  shall  we  ex- 
pect an  opening  of  the  inward  eye  to  the  glorious  vision  of 
that  existence  which  admits  of  no  question  out  of  itself,  ac- 
knowledges no  predicate  but  the  I  AM  IN  THAT  I  AM  ! 
0auf/.a^ov-£g  (piXotfoqjS/xsv  cpiXoao^ridavrsg  2ia|J./3S(jisv.  In  wonder  (  tcj  Sau- 
(xa^t-jv)  says  Aristotle  does  philosophy  begin  :  and  in  astound- 
ment  {to  'bap.iSs'.v)  says  Plato,  does  all  true  philosophy .^wis/?,.  As 
every  faculty,  with  every  the  minutest  organ  of  our  nature, 
owes  its  whole  reality  and  comprehensibility  to  an  existence 
incomprehensible  and  groundless,  because  the  ground  of  all 
comprehension  :  not  without  the  union  of  all  that  is  essentia! 
in  all  the  functions  of  our  spirit,  not  without  an  emotion  tran- 
quil from  its  very  intensity,  shall  we  worthily  contemplate  in 
the  magnitude  and  integrity  of  the  world  that  life-ebullient 
stream  which  breaks  through  every  momentary  embankment, 
again,  indeed,  and  evermore  to  embank  itself,  but  within  no 
banks  to  stagnate  or  be  imprisoned. 

But  here  it  behooves  us  to  bear  in  mind,  that  all  true  reality 
has  both  its  ground  and  its  evidence  in  the  wiH,  without  which 
as  its  complement  science  ilself  is  but  an  elaborate  game  of 
shadows,  begins  in  abstractions  and  ends  in  perplexity.  For 
considered  merely  intellectually,  individuality,  as  individuality, 
is  only  conceivable  as  with  and  in  the  Universal  and  Infinite, 
neither  before  or  after  it.  No  transition  is  possible  from  one 
to  the  other,  as  from  the  architect  to  the  house,  or  the  watch  to 
its  maker.  The  finite  form  can  neither  be  laid  hold  of,  nor  is 
it  any  thing  of  itself  real,  but  merely  an  apprehension,  a  frame- 
work which  the  human  imagination  forms  by  its  own  limits,  as 
the  foot  measures  itself  on  the  snow ;  and  the  sole  truth  of 
which  we  must  again  refer  to  the  divine  imagination,  in  virtue 
of  its  omniformity  ;  even  as  thou  art  capable  of  beholding  the 
transparent  air   as  little  during  the  absence  as  during  the  pre- 


456 

sence  of  light,  so  canst  thou  behold  the  finite  things  as  actually 
existing  neither  with  nor  Avithout  the  substance.  Not  without, 
for  then  the  forms  cease  to  be,  and  are  lost  in  night.  Not 
with  it,  for  it  is  the  light,  the  substance  shining  through  it, 
which  thou   canst  alone  really  see. 

The  ground-work,  therefore,  of  all  true  philosophy  is  the  full 
apprehension  of  the  difference  between  the  contemplation  of 
reason,  namely,  that  intuition  of  things,  which  arises  when  we 
possess  ourselves,  as  one  with  the  whole,  which  is  substantial 
knowledge,  and  that  which  presents  itself  when  transferring 
reality  to  the  negations  of  reality,  to  the  evervarying  frame- 
work of  the  uniform  life,  we  think  of  ourselves  as  separated 
beings,  and  place  nature  in  antithesis  to  the  mind,  as  object  to 
subject,  thing  to  thought,  death  to  life.  This  is  abstract  know- 
ledge, or  the  science  of  mere  understanding.  By  the  former, 
we  know  that  existence  is  its  own  predicate,  self-affirmation, 
the  one  attribute  in  which  all  others  are  contained,  not  as  parts, 
but  as  manifestations.  It  is  an  eternal  and  infinite  self-rejoi- 
cing, self-loving,  with  a  joy  unfathomable,  with  a  love  all  com- 
prehensive. It  is  absolute  ;  and  the  absolute  is  neither  singly 
that  which  alhrms,  nor  that  which  is  affirmed  ;  but  the  identity 
and  living  copula  of  both. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  abstract  knowledge  which  belongs  to 
us  as  finite  beings,  and  which  leads  to  a  science  of  delusion 
then  only,  when  it  would  exist  for  itself  instead  of  being  the 
instrument  of  the  former — instead  of  being,  as  it  were,  a  trans- 
lation of  the  living  word  into  a  dead  language,  for  the  purpos- 
es of  memory,  arrangement,  and  general  communication — it  is 
by  this  abstract  knowledge  that  the  understanding  distinguishes 
the  affirmed  from  the  affirming.  Well  if  it  distinguish  without 
dividing  !  Well  !  if  by  distinction  it  add  clearness  to  fulness, 
and  prepare  for  the  intellectual  re-union  of  the  all  in  one,  in 
that  eternal  reason  whose  fullness  hath  no  opacity,  whose 
transparency  hath  no  vacuum. 

Thus  we  prefaced  our  inquiry  into  the  Science  of  Method 
with  a  principle  deeper  than  science,  more  certain  than  demon- 
stration. For  that  the  vei'y  ground,  saith  Aristotle,  is  ground- 
less or  self-grounded,  is  an  identical  proposition.  From  the  in- 
demonstrable flows  the  sap,  that  circulates  through  every  branch 
and  spray  of  the  demonstiation.  To  this  principle  we  referred 
the  choice  of  the   final   object,   the   control  over  time — or,  to 


467 

comprize  all  in  one,  the  Method  of  the   will.     From  this   Wv. 
started  (or  rather  seemed  to  start:  for  it  still  moved  before  us, 
as  an  invisible  guardian  and  guide),  and  it  is  this  whose  re-ap- 
pearance announces    the  conclusion   of  our   circuit,    and  wel- 
comes us  at  our  goal.     Yea    (saith  an  enlightened  physician), 
there  is  but  one  principle,  which  alone  reconciles  the  man  with 
himself,  Avith  others  and  with   the  world  ;   which   regulates   all 
relations,  tempers  all  passions,  and  gives  power  to  overcome  or 
support  all  suffering ;  and  which  is  not  to  be   shaken    by   aiiglit 
earthly,  for  it  belongs  not  to  the    earth — namely,   the  principle 
of  religion,  the  living  and  substantial  faith  "which   passeth    all 
understanding^^''  as  the  cloud   piercing  rock,    which  overhangs 
the  strong-hold  of  which  it  had  been   the   quarry   and   remains 
the  foundation.     This  elevation  of  the    spirit   above    the   sem- 
blances of  custom  and  the  senses  to  a  world   of  spirit,  this  life 
in  the  idea,  even   in   the    supreme    and   godlike,   which   alone 
merits  the  name  of  life,  and  without  which  our   organic  life    is 
but  a  state  of  somnambulism  ;  this  it  is   which   affords  the    sole 
sure  anchorage  in  the  storm,  and  at  the  same  time  the  substan- 
tiating principle  of  all  true  wisdom,  the   satisfactory  solution  of 
all  the  contradictions  of  human  nature,  of  the   whole    liddle   of 
the  world.     This  alone  belongs  to  and  speaks  intelligibly  to  all 
alike,  the  learned   and    the    ignorant,  if  but   the   heart  listens. 
For  alike  present  in  all,  it  may  be    awakened,  but  it  cannot  be 
given.     But  let  it  not  be   supposed,   that  it  is  a   sort  of  knowl- 
edge :   No  !  it  is   a   form   of  being,   or  indeed    it   is  the    only 
knowledge  that  truly  is,  and  all  other   science   is   real   only   as 
far  as  it  is  symbolical  of  this.      The    material   universe,   saith  a 
Greek  philosopher,   is  but   one   vast  complex   Mythos    (i.   e. 
symbolical   representation)  :  and  mythology  the  apex  and  com- 
plement of  all  genuine  physiology.     But   as  this  principle  can- 
not be  implanted  by  the  discipline  of  logic,  so  neither  can  it  be 
excited  or  evolved  by  the  arts  of  rhetoric.     For  it  is  an  immu- 
table truth,   that  what  comes  fkom   the   heart  that  alone 
GOES  TO   the   heart  :   what   proceeds   from  a   divine    im- 
pulse,   THAT  the  godlike  ALONE  CAN    AWAKEN. 


68 


THE 

THIRD 

L.  A  N  D I N  G-P  LACE: 

OR 

ESSAYS 
MISCELLANEOUS. 


Etiam  a  musis  si  quando  animum  paulisper  abducamiis,  apud  Musas  nihil- 
ominus  feriamur;  at  reclines  quidem,  at  otiosas,  at  de  his  et  illis  inter  se  libe- 
ra coUoquentes, 


ESSAY      1 . 


Fortuna  plerumque  est  veluti 

Galaxia  quaiundarn  obscurarum 

Viftutum  sine  nomine.  Verdlam. 

(Translation.) — Fortune   is  for  the  most  part  but  a  galaxy  or  milky  way,  as  it 
were,  of  certain  obscure  virtues  without  a  name. 


^^  Does  fortune  favor  fools?  or  how  do  you  explain  the  ori- 
gin of  the  proverb,  which,  differently  worded,  is  to  be  found 
in  all  the  languages  of  Europe  ?" 

This  proverb  admits  of  various  explanations,  according  to 
the  mood  of  mind  in  which  it  is  used.  It  may  arise  from  pity, 
and  the  soothing  persuasion  that  Providence  is  eminently 
watchful  over  the  helpless,  and  extends  an  especial  care  to 
those  who  are  not  capable  of  caring  for  themselves.  So  used, 
it  breathes  the  same  feeling  as  "  God  tempers  the  wind  to  the 
shorn  lamb" — or,  the  more  sportive  adage,  that  "  the  fairies 
take  care  of  children  and  tipsy  folk."  The  persuasion  itself,  in 
addition  to  the  general  religious  feeling  of  mankind,  and  the 
scarcely  less  general  love  of  the  marvellous,  may  be  account- 
ed for  from  our  tendency  to  exaggerate  all  effects,  that  seem 
disproportionate  to  their  visible  cause,  and  all  circumstances 
that  are  in  any  way  strongly  contrasted  with  our  notions  of  the 
persons  under  them.  Secondly,  it  arises  from  the  safety  and 
success  which  an  ignorance  of  danger  and  difficulty  sometimes 
actually  assists  in  procuring ;  inasmuch  as  it  precludes  the 
despondence,  which  might  have  kept  the  more  foresighted  from 
undertaking  the  enterprize,  the  depression  which  would  retard 
its  progress,  and  those  overwhelming  influences  of  terror  in 
cases  where  the  vivid  perception  of  the  danger  constitutes  the 
greater  part  of  the  danger  itself.  Thus  men  are  said  to  have 
swooned  and  even  died  at  the  sight  of  a  narrow  bridge,  ov»r 


462 

which  thej  had  rode,  the  night  before,  in  perfect  safety ;  or  at 
tracing  the  footmarks  along  the  edge  of  a  precipice  which  the 
darkness  had  concealed  from  them.  A  more  obscure  cause, 
yet  not  wholly  to  be  omitted,  is  afforded  by  the  undoubted  fact, 
that  the  exertion  of  the  reasoning  faculties  tends  to  extinguish 
or  bedim  those  mysterious  instincts  of  skill,  which,  though  for 
the  most  part  latent,  we  nevertheless  possess  in  common  with 
other  animals. 

Or  the  proverb  may  be  used  invidiously :  and  folly  in  the 
vocabulary  of  envy  or  baseness  may  signify  courage  and  mag- 
nanimity. Hardihood  and  fool-hardiness  are  indeed  as  different 
as  green  and  yellow,  yet  will  appear  the  same  to  the  jaundiced 
eye.  Courage  multiplies  the  chances  of  success  by  sometimes 
making  opportunities,  and  always  availing  itself  of  them  :  and 
in  this  sense  fortune  may  be  said  to  favor  fools  by  those,  who, 
however  prudent  in  their  own  opinion,  are  deficient  in  valor 
and  enterprize.  Again  :  an  eminently  good  and  wise  man, 
for  whom  the  praises  of  the  judicious  have  procured  a  high 
reputation  even  with  the  world  at  large,  proposes  to  himself 
certain  objects,  and,  adapting  the  right  means  to  the  right 
end,  attains  them  ;  but  his  objects  not  being  what  the  world 
calls  fortune,  neither  money  nor  artificial  rank,  his  admitted 
inferiors  in  moral  and  intellectual  worth,  but  more  prosperous 
in  their  wordly  concerns,  are  said  to  have  been  favored  by  for- 
tune and  he  slighted  :  although  the  fools  did  the  same  in  their 
line  as  the  wise  man  in  his ;  they  adapted  the  appropriate 
means  to  the  desired  end  and  so  succeeded.  In  this  sense 
the  proverb  is  current  by  a  misuse,  or  a  catachresis  at  least,  of 
both  the  words,  fortune  and  fools. 

How  seldom  friend !  a  good  great  man  inherits 
Honor  or  wealth  with  all  his  worth  and  pains ! 
It  sounds,  like  stories  from  the  land  of  spirits, 
If  any  man  oljtain  that  which  he  merits, 
Or  any  merit  that  which  he  obtains. 


For  shame,  dear  friend !  renounce  this  canting  strain 
What  would'st  thou  have  a  good  great  man  obtain  ? 
Place?  titles  ?  salary  ?  a  gilded  chain .-' 
Or  thron«  of  corses  which  his  sword  hath  filai«  ? 
Greatness  ^nd  goo.lness  are  iiot  means  but  ends  ! 
ISath  he  not  always  treasures,  always  friendsi 


4(J3 

The  good  great  man?  Threo  treasures,  love  and 

LIGHT, 

And  CALM  THOUGHTS  regular  as  infant's  breath  .- 
J  And  three  firm  friends,  more  sure  tlian  day  and  nighty 

Himself,  his  Maker,  and  the  angel  Death. 

s.  T.  c. 

But,  lastly,  there  is,  doubtless,  a  true  meaning  attached 
to  fortune,  distinct  both  from  prudence  and  from  cour- 
age ;  and  distinct  too  from  that  absence  of  depressing  or 
bewildering  passions,  which  (according  to  my  favorite  pro- 
verb, "  extremes  meet,")  the  fool  not  seldom  obtains  in 
as  great  perfection  by  his  ignorance,  as  the  wise  man  by 
the  highest  energies  of  thought  and  self-discipline.  Luck 
has  a  real  existence  in  human  affairs  from  the  infinite  number 
of  powers,  that  are  in  action  at  the  same  time,  and  from  the 
co-existence  of  things  contingent  and  accidental  (such  as  to 
us  at  least  are  accidental)  with  the  regular  appearances  and 
general  laws  of  nature.  A  familiar  instance  will  make  these 
words  intelligible.  The  moon  waxes  and  wanes  according  to 
a  necessary  law. — The  clouds  likewise,  and  all  the  manifold 
appearances  connected  with  them,  are  governed  by  certain  laws 
no  less  than  the  phases  of  the  moon.  But  the  laws  which  de- 
termine the  latter,  are  known  and  calculable  :  while  those  of 
the  former  are  hidden  from  us.  At  all  events,  the  number  and 
variety  of  their  effects  baffle  our  powers  of  calculation :  and 
that  the  sky  is  clear  or  obscured  at  any  particular  time,  we 
speak  of,  in  common  language,  as  a  matter  of  accident.  Well ! 
at  the  time  of  full  moon,  but  when  the  sky  is  completely  cov- 
ered with  black  clouds,  I  am  walking  on  in  the  dark,  aware  of 
no  particular  danger  :  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  rends  the  cloud 
for  a  moment,  and  the  moon  emerging  discloses  to  me  a  chasm 
or  precipice,  to  the  very  brink  of  which  I  had  advanced  my 
foot.  This  is  what  is  meant  by  luck,  and  according  to  the  more 
or  less  serious  mood  or  habit  of  our  mind  we  exclaim,  how 
lucky  !  or,  how  providential  I  The  co-presence  of  numberless 
phsenomena,  which  from  the  complexity  or  subtlety  of  their 
determining  causes  are  called  contin^encieSy  and  the  co-exis- 
tence of  these  with  any  regular  or  necessaiy  phaenomenon  (as 
the  clouds  with  the  moon  for  instance)  occasion  coincidences^ 
which,  when  they  are  attended  by  any  advantage  or  injury, 
and  are  at  the  same  time  incapable  of  being  calculated  or  fore- 
seen by  human  prudence,  fori^  good  or  ill  luck.  On  a  hot 
sunshiny  afternoon   came  on  a  sudden  storm  and  spoilt  the  far- 


464 

mer's  hay :  and  this  is  called  ill  luck.  We  will  suppose  the 
event  to  take  place,  when  meteorology  shall  have  been  perfect- 
ed into  a  science,  provided  with  unerring  instruments;  but 
which  the  farmer  had  neglected  to  examine.  This  is  no  longer 
ill  luck,  but  imprudence.  Now  apply  this  to  our  proverb. 
Unforeseen  coincidences  may  have  greatly  helped  a  man,  yet  if 
they  have  done  for  him  only  what  possibly  from  his  own  abili- 
ities  he  might  have  effected  for  himself,  his  good  luck  will  ex- 
cite less  attention  and  the  instances  be  less  remembered. 
That  clever  men  should  attain  their  objects  seems  natural,  and 
we  neglect  the  circumstances  that  perhaps  produced  that  suc- 
cess of  themselves  without  the  intervention  of  skill  or  foresight ; 
but  we  dwell  on  the  fact  and  remember  it,  as  something  strange, 
when  the  same  happens  to  a  weak  or  ignorant  man.  So  too, 
though  the  latter  should  fail  in  his  undertakings  from  concur- 
rences that  might  have  happened  to  the  wisest  man,  yet  his 
failure  being  no  more  than  might  have  been  expected  and  ac- 
counted for  from  his  folly,  it  lays  no  hold  on  our  attention,  but 
fleets  away  among  the  other  undistinguished  waves  in  which  the 
stream  of  ordinary  ilfe  murmurs  by  us,  and  is  forgotten.  Had 
it  been  as  true  as  it  was  notoriously  false,  that  those  all-em- 
bracing discoveries,  which  have  shed  a  dawn  of  science  on  the 
art  of  chemistry,  and  give  no  obscure  promise  of  some  one  great 
constitutive  law,  in  the  light  of  which  dwell  dominion  and  the 
power  of  prophecy  ;  if  these  discoveries,  instead  of  having  been 
as  they  really  were  preconcerted  by  meditation,  and  evolved 
out  of  his  own  intellect,  had  occured  by  a  set  of  lucky  accidents 
to  tiie  illustrious  father  and  founder  of  philosopic  alchemy  ;  if 
they  had  presented  themselves  to  Professor  Davy  exclusively 
in  consequence  of  his  luck  in  possessing  a  particular  galvanic 
battery  ;  if  this  battery,  as  far  as  Davy  was  concerned,  had 
itself  been  an  accident^  and  not  (as  in  point  of  fact  it  was) 
desired  and  obtained  by  him  for  the  purpose  of  ensuring  the 
testimony  of  experience  to  his  principles,  and  in  order  to  bind 
down  material  nature  under  the  inquisition  of  reason,  and  force 
from  her,  as  by  torture,  unequivocal  answer  to  prepared  and  p7'e- 
conceived  questions — yet  still  they  would  not  have  been  talked 
of  or  described,  as  instances  of  luck^  but  as  the  natural  results 
of  his  admitted  genius  and  known  skill.  But  should  an  acci- 
dent have  disclosed  similar  discoveries  to  a  mechanic  at  Bir- 
n^ngham  or  Sheffield,  and  if  (he  man  should  grow  rich  in  con- 


465 

sequence,  and  partly  by  the  envy  of  his  niegbors,  and  partly 
with  good  reason,  be  considered  by  them  as  a  man  below  j)ar 
in  the  general  powers  of  his  understanding  ;  then,  "  0  what  a 
lucky  fellow  ! — Well,  Fortune  does  favor  fools — that's  for  cer- 
tain ! — It  is  always  so  !" — And  forthwith  the  exclaimer  relates 
half  a  dozen  similar  instances.  Thus  accumulating  the  one 
sort  of  facts  and  never  collecting  the  other,  we  do,  as  poets  in 
their  diction,  and  quacks  of  all  denominations  do  in  their  rea- 
soning, put  a  part  for  the  whole,  and  at  once  soothe  our  envy 
and  gratify  our  love  of  the  marvellous,  by  the  sweeping  pro- 
verb, "  Fortune  favors  fools." 


ESSAY    II 


Quod  me  uon  movet  sestimatione : 
Verum,  est  iirtjuoaurov  inei  sodalis. 

CATUiL  xii. 

(Trunshition.) — It  interested  not  by  any  conceit  of  its  value ;  but  it  is  a 
remembrance  of  my  honored  friend. 


The  philosophic  ruler,  who  secured  the  favors  of  fortune  by 
seeking  wisdom  and  knowledge  in  preference  to  them,  has  pa- 
thetically observed — "  The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness ; 
and  there  is  a  joy  in  which  the  stranger  intermeddleth  not." 
A  simple  question  founded  on  a  trite  proverb,  with  a  discur- 
sive answer  to  it,  would  scarcely  suggest,  to  an  indifferent  per- 
son, any  other  notion  than  that  of  a  mind  at  ease,  amusing  it- 
self with  its  own  activity.  Once  before  (I  believe  about  this 
time  last  year)  I  had  taken  up  the  old  memorandum  book,  from 
which  I  transcribed  the  preceding  Essay,  and  that  had  then 
attracted  my  notice  by  the  name  ol  the  illustrious  chemist 
mentioned  in  the  last  illustration.  Exasperated  by  the  base 
59 


466 

and  cowardly  attempt,  that  had  been  made,  to  detract  from  the 
honors  due  to  his  astonishing  genius,  I  had  slightly  altered  the 
concluding  sentences,  substituting   the  more  recent  for  his  ear- 
lier discoveries  ;  and  without  the  most  distant  intention  of  pub- 
lishing what  I  then  wrote,  I  had  expressed  my  own  convictions 
for  the  gratification  of  my  own    feelings,  and   finished  by  tran- 
quilly paraphrasing  into  a  chemical  allegory  ,the  Homeric   ad- 
venture of  Menelaus   with   Proteus.     Oh  !   with  what  different 
feelings,  with  what  a  sharp  and  sudden  emotion  did  I  re-peruse 
the  same  question   yester-morning,   having  by  accident  opened 
the  book  at  the  page,  upon  which  it  was  written.     I  was  mov- 
ed :  for  it  was  Admiral  Sir  Alexander  Ball,  who  first  proposed 
the  question   to   me,   and  the    particular  satisfaction,  which  he 
expressed,   had    occasioned    me  to   note  down  the  substance  of 
my  reply.     I  was   moved  :   because  to  this  conversation,  I  was 
indebted  for  the  friendship  and  confidence   with   which   he   af- 
terwards honored  me  ;  and    because  it  recalled  the   memory  of 
one  of  the   most   delightful   mornings  I    ever  passed  ;  Avhen  as 
we  were  riding   together,  the    same  person   related  to  me  the 
prnicipal   events  of  his   own   life,  and  introduced  them  by  ad- 
verting to  this   conversation.     It  recalled  too  the  deep  impres- 
sion left  on  my  mind  by  that    narrative,  the   impression,   that  I 
had    never  known    any  analogous   instance,  in  which  a  man  so 
successful,  had  been  so   little  indebted  to  fortune,   or  lucky  ac- 
cidents, or  so  exclusively  both  the    architect  and  builder  of  his 
own  success.     The  sum  of  his  history  may  be  comprised  in  this 
one  sentence  :    Hsec,  sub  numine,  nobismet   fecimus,  sapientia 
duce,    fortuna  permittente.      (i.  e.  These   things,   under  God, 
we  have  done  for  ourselves,  through  the   guidance  of  wisdom, 
and  with  the  permission  of  fortune.)      Luck  gave  him  nothing: 
in  her  most   generous   moods,   she   only    worked  with    him  as 
with  a  friend,  not  for   him   as  for   a   fondling  :  but   more  often 
she    simply  stood   neuter  and  suffered  him  to  work  for  himself. 
Ah  !  how  could  I  be  otherwise  than  affected,  by  whatever  re- 
minded me  of  that  daily  and  familiar  intercourse  with  him  which 
made  the  fifteen   months  from  May  1801,  to  October   1805,  in 
many  respects,  the    most   memorable   and  instructive  period  of 
my  life  ? — Ah  !  how  could  I  be  otherwise  than  most  deeply  af- 
fected :  when  there  was  still  lying  on  ray  table  the  paper  which, 
the  day  before,  had   conveyed  to  me  the    unexpected  and  most 
awful  tid'ngs  of  this  man's  death  !  his  death  in  the  fulness  of  all 


4G7 

his  powers,  in  the  rich  autumn  of  ripe  yet  undecaying  man- 
hood! I  once  knew  a  lady,  who  after  the  loss  of  a  lovely  child  con- 
tinued for  several  days  in  a  state  of  seeming  indifference,  the 
weather,  at  the  same  time,  as  if  in  unison  with  her,  being  calm, 
though  gloomy  :  till  one  morning  a  burst  of  sunshine  breaking 
in  upon  her,  and  suddenly  lighting  up  the  room  where  she 
was  sitting,  she  dissolved  at  once  into  tears,  and  wept  passion- 
ately. In  no  verj'-  dissimilar  manner,  did  the  sudden  gleam  of 
recollection  at  the  sight  of  this  memorandum  act  on  myself.  I 
had  been  stunned  by  the  intelligence,  ashy  an  outward  blow,  till 
this  trifling  incident  startled  and  disentranced  me  :  (the  sud- 
den pang  shivered  through  my  whole  frame  : )  and  if  I  repress- 
ed the  outward  shows  of  sorrow,  it  was  by  force  that  I  repres- 
sed them,  and  because  it  is  not  by  tears  that  I  ought  to  mourn 
for  the  loss  of  Sir  Alexander  Ball. 

He  was  a  man  above  his  age  :  but  for  that  very  reason  the  age 
has  the  more  need  to  have  the  master-features  of  his  character 
portrayed   and  preserved.     This  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  attempt, 
and   this   alone  :  for   having   received   neither  instructions  nor 
permission   from   the   family  of  the    deceased,  I  cannot   think 
myself  allowed   to  enter  into  the  particulars  of  his  private  his- 
tory, strikingly  as  many  of  them  would    illustrate  the  elements 
and  composition  of  his  mind.     For  he  was  indeed  a  living  con- 
futation of  the    assertion  attributed  to   the    Prince   of  Conde, 
that  no  man  appeared  great  to  his  valet  de   chambre — a  saying 
which,  I  suspect,  owes   it's  currency  less  to   it's  truth,  than  to 
the  envy  of  mankind  and  the  misapplication  of  the  word,  great, 
to  actions  unconnected   with   reason  and  free  will.     It  will  be 
sufficient  for   my  purpose  to  observe,  that  the  purity  and  strict 
propriety  of  his  conduct,  which  precluded  rather  than  silenced 
calumny,  the  evenness  of  his  temper  and   his  attentive  and  af 
fectionate  manners,  in  private  life,  greatly  aided  and  increased 
his  public   utility  :  and,  if  it  should   please    Providence,  that  a 
portion  of  his  spirit  should  descend  with  his  mantle,  the  virtues 
of  Sir  Alexander  Ball,   as  a  master,  a  husband,  and  a  pa- 
rent, will  form  a  no  less  remarkable  epoch  in  the  moral  history  of 
the  Maltese  than  his   wisdom,  as  a  governor,  has   made  in  that 
of  their  outward   circumstances.     That   the  private    and  per- 
sonal qualities  of  a  first  magistrate  should  have  political  effects, 
will  appear  strange  to  no  reflecting   Englishmar.,   who  has  at- 
tended to  the  workings  of  men's  minds    during  the  first  ferment 


468 

of  revolutionary  principles,  and  must  therefore  have  witness- 
ed the  influence  of  our  own  sovereign's  domestic  character  in 
counteracting  them.  But  in  Malta  there  were  circumstances 
which  rendered  such  an  example  peculiary  requisite  and  bene- 
ficent. The  very  existence,  for  so  many  generations,  of  an 
Order  of  Lay  Cselibates  in  that  island,  who  abandoned  even 
the  outward  shows  of  an  adherence  to  their  vow  of  chastity, 
must  have  had  pernicious  effects  on  the  morals  of  the  inhabi- 
tants. But  when  it  is  considered  too  that  the  Knights  of 
Malta  had  been  for  the  last  fifty  years  or  more  a  set  of  use- 
less idlers,  generally  illiterate,*  for  they  thought  literature  no 
part  of  a  soldier's  excellence  ;  and  yet  effeminate,  for  they 
were  soldiers  in  name  only  :  when  it  is  considered,  that  they 
were,  morover,  all  of  them  aliens^  who  looked  upon  them- 
selves not  merely  as  of  a  superior  rank  to  the  native  nobles, 
but  as  beings  of  a  different  race  (I  had  almost  said,  species)^ 
from  the  Maltese  collectively  ;  and  finally  that  these  men  pos- 
sessed exclusively  the  government  of  the  Island  :  it  may  be 
safely  concluded  that  they  were  little  better  than  a  perpetual 
influenza,  relaxing  and  diseasing  the  hearts  of  all  the  families 
within  their  sphere  of  influence.  Hence  the  peasantry,  who 
fortunately  were  below  their  reach,  notwithstanding  the  more 
than  childish  ignorance  in  which  they  were  kept  by  their 
priests,  yet  compared  with  the  middle  and  higher  classes,  were 
both  in  mind  and  body,  as  ordinary  men  compared  with  dwarfs. 
Every  respectable  family  had  some  one  night  for  their  patron, 
as  a  matter  of  course  ;  and  to  him  the  honor  of  a  sister  or  a 
daughter  was  sacrificed,  equally  as  a  matter  of  course.  But 
why  should  I  thus  disguise  the  truth  ?  Alas !  in  nine  in- 
stances out  of  ten,  this  patron  w  as  the  common  paramour  of  ev- 
ery female  in  the  family.  Were  I  composing  a  state  memo- 
rial, I  should  abstain  from  all  allusion  to  moral  good  or  evil, 
as   not  having   now  first  to  learn,   that  with  diplomatists,  and 

*The  personal  effects  of  every  knight  were,  after  his  death,  appropriated  to 
the  Order,  and  his  books,  if  he  had  any,  devolved  to  the  public  library. 
This  library  therefore,  which  has  been  accumulating  from  the  time  of  their 
fu-st  settlement  in  the  island,  is  a  fair  criterion  of  the  nature  and  degree  of 
their  literary  studies,  as  an  average.  Even  in  respect  to  works  of  military 
science,  it  is  contemptible — as  the  sole  public^library  of  so  numerous  and 
opulent  an  order,  most  contemptible — aid  in  all  other  departments  of  litera- 
ture it  is  below  contempt. 


469 

with  practical  statesmen  of  every  denomination,  it  would  pre- 
clude all  attention  to  its  other  contents,  and  have  no  result  but 
that  of  securing  for  its  author's  name  the  official  private  mark  of 
exclusion  or  dismission,  as  a  weak  or  suspicious  person.  But 
among  those  for  whom  I  am  now  writing,  there  are,  I  trust, 
many  who  will  think  it  not  the  feeblest  reason  for  rejoicing  in 
our  possession  of  Malta,  and  not  the  least  worthy  motive  for 
wishing  its  retention,  that  one  source  of  human  misery  and  cor- 
ruption has  been  dried  up.  Such  persons  will  hear  the  name 
of  Sir  Alexander  Ball  with  additional  reverence,  as  of  one 
who  has  made  the  protection  of  Great  Britain  a  double  bless- 
ing to  the  Maltese,  and  broken,  "  the  bonds  of  iniquity'^''  as 
well  as  unlocked  the  fetters  of  political  oppression. 

When  we  are  praising  the  departed  by  our  own  fire-sides, 
we  dwell  most  fondly  on  those  qualities  which  had  won  our 
personal  affection,  and  which  sharpen  our  individual  regrets. 
But  when  impelled  by  a  loftier  and  more  meditative  sorrow, 
we  would  raise  a  public  monument  to  their  memory,  we  praise 
them  appropriately  when  we  relate  their  actions  faithfully : 
and  thus  preserving  their  example  for  the  imitation  of  the  liv- 
ing, alleviate  the  loss,  while  we  demonstrate  its  magnitude. 
My  funeral  eulogy  of  Sir  Alexander  Ball,  must  therefore  be  a 
narrative  of  his  life  :  and  this  friend  of  mankind  will  be  de- 
frauded of  honor  in  proportion  as  that  narrative  is  deficient 
and  fragmentary.  It  shall,  however,  be  as  complete  as  my 
information  enables,  and  as  prudence  and  a  proper  respect 
for  the  feelings  of  the  living  permit  me  to  render  it.  His 
fame  (1  adopt  the  words  of  our  elder  writers)  is  so  great 
throughout  the  world  that  he  stands  in  no  need  of  an  encomi- 
um :  and  yet  his  worth  is  much  greater  than  his  fame.  It  is 
impossible  not  to  speak  great  things  of  him,  and  yet  it  will  be 
very  difficult  to  speak  what  he  deserves.  But  custom  requires 
that  something  should  be  said  :  it  is  a  duty  and  a  debt  which 
we  owe  to  ourselves  and  to  mankind,  not  less  than  to  his  memo- 
ry ;  and  I  hope  his  great  soul,  if  it  hath  any  knowledge  of 
what  is  done  here  below,  will  not  be  offended  at  the  small- 
ness  even  of  my  offering. 

Ah  !  how  little,  when  among  the  subjects  of  The  Friend 
I  promised  "  Characters  met  with  in  Real  Life,"  did  I  antici- 
pate the  sad  event,  which  compels  me  to  weave  on  a  cypress 
branch,  those  sprays  of  laurel,  which  I  had  destined  for  his  bust, 


470 

not  his  monument !  He  lived  as  we  should  all  live  ;  and,  I 
doubt  not,  left  the  world  as  we  should  all  wish  to  leave  it. 
Such  is  the  power  of  dispensing  blessings,  which  Providence 
has  attached  to  the  truly  great  and  good,  that  they  cannot  even 
die  without  advantage  to  their  fellow-creatures :  for  death  con- 
secrates their  example ;  and  the  wisdom,  which  might  have 
been  slighted  at  the  council-table,  becomes  oracular  from  the 
shrine.  Those  rare  excellencies,  which  make  our  grief  poign- 
ant, make  it  likewise  profitable  ;  and  the  tears,  which  wise 
men  shed  for  the  departure  of  the  wise,  are  among  those  that 
are  preserved  in  heaven.  It  is  the  fervent  aspiration  of  my  spir- 
it, that  I  may  so  perform  the  task  which  private  gratitude,  and 
public  duty  impose  on  me,  that  "  as  God  hath  cut  this  tree  of 
paradise  down,  from  its  seat  of  earth,  the  dead  trunk  may  yet 
support  a  part  of  the  declining  temple,  or  at  least  serve  to 
kindle  the  fire  on  the  altar."* 


*  ]:j).  .Tcr.  Taylor. 


ESSAY    III. 


Si  partem  tacnisse  veliin,  qiiodcumque  relinqiiani, 
Majus  erit.     Veteres  actus,  primamque  juventani 
Prosequar  ?     Ad  sese  mentem  prcBsentia  diicimt. 
Narreui  justitian?     Resplendet  gloria  Martis. 
Armati  leferam  Aires  ?     Plus  egit  inermis. 

CLAUDI-Of    DE    LAUD.    STIL. 

(Trandalion.) — If  I  desire  to  pass  over  a  part  in  silence,  whatever  I  omit,  will 
seem  the  most  worthy  to  have  been  recorded.  Shall  I  pursue  his  old  ex- 
ploits and  early  youth  ?  His  i-ecent  merits  recall  the  mind  to  them- 
selves. Shall  I  dwell  on  his  justice  ?  The  glory  of  the  warrior  rises  before 
me  resplendent.  Shall  I  relate  his  strength  in  anus.'  He  performed  yet 
greater  things  unarmed. 


There  is  something  (says  Harrington  in  the  Preliminaries 
of  the  Oceana)  first  in  the  making  of  a  commonwealth,  then  in 
the  governing  of  it,  and  last  of  all  in  the  leading  of  its  armies, 
which  though  there  he  great  divines,  great  lawyers,  great  men 
in  all  ranks  of  life,  seems  to  be  peculiar  only  to  the  genius  of  a 
gentleman.  For  so  it  is  in  the  universal  series  of  history  that  if 
any  man  has  founded  a  common wealtli,  he  was  fiist  a  gentleman. 
Such  also  he  adds  as  have  got  any  fame  as  civil  governors  have 
been  gentlemen,  or  persons  of  known  descent.  Sir  Alexander 
Ball  was  a  gentleman  by  birth  ;  a  younger  brother  of  an  old  and 
respectable  family  in  Gloucestershire.  lie  went  into  the  navy 
at  an  early  age  from  his  own  choice,  and  as  he  himself  told  me,, 
in  consequence  of  the  deep  impression  and  vivid  images  left  oiv 
his  mind  by  the  perusal  of  Robinson  Crusoe.  It  is  not  my  in- 
tention to  detail  the  steps  of  his  promotion,  or  the  services  in 
which  he  was  engaged  as  a  subaltern.  I  recollect  many  par- 
ticulars indeed,  but  not  the  dates  with  such  distinctness  as  would 


472 

enable  me  to  state  them  (as  it  would  be  necessary  to  do  if  I 
stated  them  at  all)  in  the  order  of  time.  These  dates  might 
perhaps  have  been  procured  from  the  metropolis  :  but  incidents 
that  are  neither  characteristic  nor  instructive,  even  such  as 
would  be  expected  with  reason  in  a  regular  life,  are  no  part  of 
my  plan  ;  while  those  which  are  both  interesting  and  illustra- 
tive I  have  been  precluded  from  mentioning,  some  from  motives 
which  have  been  already  explained,  and  others  from  still  higher 
considerations.  The  most  important  of  these  may  be  deduced 
from  a  reflection  with  which  he  himself  once  concluded  a  long 
and  affecting  narration  :  namely  that  no  body  of  men  can  for  any 
length  of  time  be  safely  treated  otherwise  than  as  rational  be- 
ings ;  and  that  therefore  the  education  of  the  lower  classes  was  of 
the  utmost  consequence  to  the  permanent  security  of  the  empire, 
even  for  the  sake  of  our  navy.  The  dangers  apprehended  from 
the  education  of  the  lower  classes,  arose  (he  said)  entirely 
from  its  not  being  universal,  and  from  the  unusualness  in  the 
lowest  classes  of  those  accomplishments,  which  He,  like  Doctor 
Bell,  regarded  as  one  of  the  means  of  education,  and  not  as  edu- 
cation itself.*  If,  he  observed,  the  lower  classes  in  general  pos- 
sessed but  one  eye  or  one  arm,  the  few  who  were  so  fortunate 
as  to  possess  two,  would  naturally  become  vain  and  restless, 
and  consider  themselves  as  entitled  to  a  higher  situation.  He 
illustrated  this  by  the  faults  attributed  to  learned  women,  and 
that  the  same  objections  were  formerly  made  to  educating  wo- 
men at  all :  namely,  that  their  knowledge  made  them  vain,  af- 
fected, and  neglectful  of  their  proper  duties.  Now  that  all 
women  of  condition  are  well-educated,  we  hear  no  more  of 
these  apprehensions,  or  observe  any  instances  to  justify  them. 
Yet  if  a  lady  understood  the  Greek  one-tenth  part  as  well  as 
the  whole  circle  of  her  acquaintances  understood  the  French 
language,  it  would  not  surprise  us  to  find  her  less  pleasing  from 
the  consciousness  of  her  superiority  in  the  possession  of  an  un- 
usual advantage.  Sir  Alexander  Ball  quoted  the  speech  of  an 
old  admiral,  one  of  whose  two  great  wishes  was  to  have  a  ship's 


*  Which  consists  in  educing,  or  to  adopt  Dr.  Bell's  own  expression,  el'icilbv^ 
the  faculties  of  the  human  mind,  and  at  the  same  time  subordinating  them  to 
the  reason  and  conscience;  varying  the  means  of  this  common  end  accor- 
ding to  the  sphcn;  and  particular  mode  in  which  the  individual  is  likely  to 
act  and  become  useful. 


473 

crew  composed  altogether  of  serious  Scotchmen.     He  epoke 
with  great  reprobation  of  the  vulgar  notion,  the  worse  man,  the 
better  sailor.     Courage,  he  said,  was  the  natural  product  of  fa- 
miliarity with  danger,  which  thoughtlessness  would  oftentimes 
turn  into  fool-hardiness;  and  that  he  had  always  found  the  most 
usefully  brave  sailors  the  gravest  and  most  rational  of  his  crew. 
The  best  sailor,  he  had  ever  had,   first  attracted   his  notice  by 
the  anxiety  which  he  expressed   concerning  the   means   of  re- 
mitting some  money  which  he  had  received  in  the  West  Indies, 
to  his  sister  in  England  ;  and  this  man,  without  any  tinge  of  rae- 
thodism,  was  never  heard  to  swear  an  oath,  and  was  remarkable 
for  the  firmness  with  which  he  devoted  apart  of  every  Sunday 
to  the  reading  of  his  Bible.     I  record  this  with  satisfaction  as  a 
testimony  of  great  weight,  and  in  all  respects  unexceptionable  ; 
for  Sir  Alexander  Ball's  opinions  throughout  life  remained  un- 
warped  by  zealotry,  and  were  those  of  a  mind  seeking  after 
truth,  in  calmness  and  complete  self-possession.     He  was  much 
pleased  with  an   unsuspicious  testimony  furnished  by  Dampier. 
(Vol.  ii.  Part  2,  page  89).  "  I  have  particularly  observed," 
writes  this  famous  old  navigator,  "  there  and  in  other  places,  that 
such  as  had  been  well-bred,  wore  generally  most  careful  to  im- 
prove their  time  and  would  be  very  industrious  and  frugal  where 
there  was  any  probability  of  considerable  gain  ;  but  on  the  con- 
trary,   such    as    had   been  bred  up  in  ignorance  and  hard   labor 
when  they  came  to  have  plenty  v.ould   extravagantly  squander 
away  their  time  and  money  in  drinking  and  making  a  bluster.^^ 
Indeed  it  is  a  melancholy   proof,   how  strangely  power  warps 
the  minds  of  ordinary  men,  that  there  can  be   a   doubt   on  this 
subject  among  persons  who  have  been  themselves  educated.     It 
tempts  a  suspicion,  that  unknown  to  themselves  they  find  a  com- 
fort in  the  thought  tliat  their  inferiors  are  something  less  than  men;: 
or  that  they  have  an  uneasy  half-consciousness  that,  if  this  were 
not  the  case,  they  would  themselves  have  no  claim  to  be  their 
superiors.     For  a  sober  education  naturally  inspires  self-respect. 
But  he  who  respects  himself  will  respect  others,  and  he  who 
respects  both  himself  and  others,  must  of  necessity  be  a  brave 
man.     The  great  importance  of  this  subject,  and  the  increasing 
interest  which  good  men  of  all  denominations  feel  in  the  bring- 
ing about  of  a  national  education,  must  be  ray  excuse  for  having 
entered  so  minutely  into  Sir  Alexander  Ball's  opinions  on  this 
head,  in  which,  however,  I  am  the  more  excusable,  being  now 
60 


474 

on  that  part  of  his  life  which  I  am  obliged  to  leave   almost  a 
blank. 

During  his  lieutenancy,  and  after  he  had  perfected  himself  in 
the  knowledge  and  duties  of  a  practical  sailor,  he  was  compel- 
led by  the  state  of  his  health  to  remain  in  England  for  a  consid- 
erable length  of  time.  Of  this  he  industriously  availed  himself 
to  the  acquirement  of  substantial  knowledge  from  books ;  and 
during  his  whole  life  afterwards,  he  considered  those  as  his 
happiest  hours,  which,  without  any  neglect  of  official  or  profes- 
sional duty,  he  could  devote  to  reading.  He  preferred,  indeed 
he  almost  confined  himself  to,  history,  political  economy,  voy- 
ages and  travels,  natural  history,  and  latterly  agricultural 
works  :  in  short,  to  such  books  as  contain  specific  facts,  or  prac- 
tical principles  capable  of  specific  application.  His  active  life, 
and  the  particular  objects  of  immediate  utility,  some  one  of 
which  he  had  always  in  his  view,  precluded  a  taste  for  works 
of  pure  speculation  and  abstract  science,  though  he  highly  hon- 
ored those  who  were  eminent  in  these  respects,  and  considered 
them  as  the  benefactors  of  mankind,  no  less  than  those  who  af- 
terwards discovered  the  mode  of  applying  their  principles,  or 
who  realized  them  in  practice.  Works  of  amusement,  as  nov- 
els, plays,  &c.  did  not  appear  even  to  amuse  him  :  and  the  on- 
ly poetical  composition,  of  which  I  have  ever  heard  him  speak, 
was  a  manuscript*  poem  written  by  one  of  my  friends,  which  I 
read  to  his  lady  in  his  presence.  To  my  surprise  he  after- 
wards spoke  of  this  with  warm  interest ;  but  it  was  evident  to 
me,  that  it  was  not  so  much  the  poetic  merit  of  the  composition 
that  had  interested  him,  as  the  truth  and  psychological  insight 
with  which  it  represented  the  practicability  of  reforming  the 
most  hardened  minds,  and  the  various  accidents  which  may 
awaken  the  most  brutalized  person  to  a  recognition  of  his  no- 
bler being.  I  will  add  one  remark  of  his  own  knowledge  ac- 
quired from  books,  which  appears  to  me  both  just  and  valuable. 
The  prejudice  against  such  knowledge,  he  said,  and  the  custom 
of  opposing  it  to  that  which  is  learnt  by  practice,  originated  in 
those  times  when  books  were  almost  confined  to  theology,  and 
to  logical  and  metaphysical  subtleties;  but  that  at  present  there 
is  scarcely  any  practical  knowledge,  which  is  not  to  be  found 

*  Tlioiigh  it  remains,  I  believe,  mipublislietl,  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation 
of  recording  tliat  it  was  Mr.  Wordsworth'?  Peter  Bell. 


475 

in  books  :     The  press  is  the  means  by  which  intelligent  men 
now  converse  with  each  other,  and  persons  of  all  classes  and 
all  pursuits  convey,   each  the  contribution  of  his  individual  ex- 
perience.    It  was  therefore,  he   said,  as  absurd  to   hold   book- 
knowledge  at  present  in  contempt,  as  it  would  be  for  a  man  to 
avail  himself  only  of  his  own   eyes  and  ears,  and  to  aim  at  no- 
thing which  could  not   be  performed   exclusively  by   his   own 
arms.     The  use  and  necessity  of  personal  experience  consisted 
in  the  power  of  choosing  and   applying  what  had   been    read, 
and   of  discriminating  by   the  light  of  analogy   the   practicable 
from  the  impracticable,  and  probability  from  mere  plausibility. 
Without  a  judgment  matured  and  steadied  by  actual  experience, 
a  man  would   read  to   little  or  perhaps  to  bad  purpose  ;  but  yet 
that  experience,  which  is  exclusion  of  all  other  knowledge  has 
been  derived  from  one  man's  life,  is  in  the  present  day  scarce- 
ly worthy  of  the  name — at  least  for  those   who  are  to  act  in  the 
higher  and  wider  spheres   of  duty.     An   ignorant   general,    he 
said,  inspired  him  with  terror ;  for  if  he  were  too  proud  to  take 
advice  he  would   ruin  himself  by  his   own  blunders  ;   and  if  he 
were  not,  by   adopting  the  worst  that   was   offered.     A  great 
genius  may  indeed  form  an  exception ;  but  we  do  not  lay  down 
rules  in  expectation  of  wonders.      A   similar  remark   I  remem- 
ber to  have  heard  from  a  gallant  officer,  who  to  eminence  in 
professional  science   and  the  gallantry  of  a   tried   soldier,  adds 
all  the  accomplishments  of  a  sound  scholar,   and   the  powers  of 
a  man  of  genius. 

One  incident,  which  hapened  at  this  period  of  Sir  Alexan- 
der's life,  is  so  illustrative  of  his  character,  and  furnishes  so 
strong  a  presumption,  that  the  thoughtful  humanity  by  which  he 
was  distinguished,  was  not  wholly  the  growth  of  his  latter 
years,  that  though  it  may  appear  to  some  trifling  in  itself,  I  will 
insert  it  in  this  place,  with  the  occasion  on  which  it  was  com- 
municated to  me.  In  a  large  party  at  the  Grand  Master's  pal- 
ace, I  had  observed  a  naval  officer  of  distinguished  merit  lis- 
tening to  Sir  Alexander  Ball,  whenever  he  joined  in  the  con- 
versation, with  so  marked  a  pleasure,  that  it  seemed  as  if  his 
very  voice,  independent  of  what  he  said,  had  been  delightful 
to  him  :  and  once  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Sir  Alexander  Ball,  I 
could  not  but  notice  the  mixed  expression  of  awe  and  affection, 
which  gave  a  more  than  common  interest  to  so  manly  a  counte- 
nance.    During  his  stay  in  the   island,  this  officer  honored  me 


476 

not  unfrequently  with  his  visits ;  and  at  the  conclusion  of  my 
last  conversation  with  him,  in  which  I  had  dwelt  on  the  wisdom 
of  the  Governor's*  conduct  in  a  recent  and  difficult  emergency, 
he  told  me  that  he  considered  himself  as  indebted  to  the  same 
excellent  person  for  that  which  was  dearer  to  him  than  his  life. 
Sir  Alexander  Ball,  said  he,  has  (I  dare  say)  forgotten  the  cir- 
cumstance ;  but  v/hen  he  was  Lieutenant  Ball,  he  was  the  offi- 
cer whom  I  accompanied  in  my  first  boat  expedition,  being  then 
a  midshipman  and  only  in  my  fourteenth  year.  As  we  were 
rowing  up  to  the  vessel  which  we  were  to  attack,  amid  a  dis- 
charge of  musquetry,  I  was  overpowered  by  fear,  my  knees 
trembled  under  me,  and  I  seemed  on  the  point  ot  fainting  away. 
Lieutenant  Ball,  who  saw  the  condition  I  was  in,  placed  himself 
close  beside  me,  and  still  keeping  his  countenence  directed 
toward  the  enemy,  took  hold  of  my  hand,  and  pressing  it  in  the 
most  friendly  manner,  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  Courage,  my  dear 
boy  don't  be  afraid  of  yourself !  you  will  recover  in  a  minute  or 
so — I  was  just  the  same,  when  I  first  went  out  in  this  w'ay." 
Sir,  added  the  officer  to  me,  it  was  as  if  an  angel  had  put  a 
new  soul  into  me.  With  the  feeling,  that  I  was  not  yet  dis- 
honored, the  whole  burthen  of  agony  was  removed ;  and  from 
that  moment  I  was  as  fearless  and  forward  as  the  oldest  of  the 
boat's  crew,  and  on  our  return  the  lieutenant  spoke  highly  of  me 
to  our  captain.  I  am  scarcely  less  convinced  of  my  own  being, 
than  that  I  should  have  been  what  I  tremble  to  think  of,  if,  in- 
stead of  his  humane  encouragment,  he  had  at  that  moment  scoff- 
ed, threatened,  or  reviled  me.  And  this  was  the  more  kind  in 
him,  because,  as  I  afterwards  understood,  his  own  conduct  in  his 
first  trial,  had  evinced  to  all  appearances  the  greatest  fearless- 
ness and  that  he  said  this  therefore  only  to  give  me  heart,  and 
restore  me  to  my  own  good  opinion. — This  anecdote,  I  trust,  will 


^'  Such  Sir  Alexander  Ball  was  in  reality,  and  such  was  his  general  appel- 
lation in  the  Mediterranean:  I  adopt  this  title  therefore,  to  avoid  the  un- 
graceful repetition  of  his  own  name  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  the 
confusion  of  ideas,  which  might  arise  from  the  use  of  his  real  title,  viz.  "  His 
Majesty's  civil  Commissioner  for  the  Island  of  Malta  and  its  dependencies; 
and  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to  the  Order  of  St.  John."  This  is  not  the  place 
to  expose  the  timid  and  unsteady  pohcy  which  continued  the  latter  title,  or 
the  petty  jealousies  which  interfered  to  prevent  Sir  Alexander  Ball  from 
having  the  title  of  Govenor  from  one  of  the  very  causes  which  rendered  him 
fitted  for  the  offic 


477 

hare  some  weight  with  those  who  may  have  lent  an  ear  to  any  of 
those  vague  calumnies  from  which  no  naval  commander  can 
secure  his  good  name,  who  knowing  the  paramount  necessity  of 
regularity  and  strict  discipline  in  a  ship  of  war,  adopts  an  ap- 
propriate plan  for  the  attainment  of  these  objects,  and  remains 
constant  and  immutable  in  the  execution.  To  an  Athenian, 
who,  in  praising  a  public  functionary  had  said,  that  every  one 
either  applauded  him  or  left  him  without  censure,  a  philoso- 
pher replied — "  How  seldom  then  must  he  have  done  his 
duty  !" 

Of  Sir  Alexander  Ball's  character,  as  Captain  Ball,  of  his 
measures  as  a  disciplinarian,  and  of  the  wise  and  dignified  prin- 
ciple on  which  he  grounded  those  measures,  I  have  already 
spoken  in  a  former  part  of  this  work,  and  must  content  myself 
therefore  with  entreating  the  reader  to  re-peruse  that  passage 
as  belonging  to  this  place,  and  as  a  part  of  the  present  narration. 
Ah  !  little  did  I  expect  at  the  time  I  wrote  that  account,  that 
the  motives  of  delicacy,  which  then  impelled  me  to  withhold 
the  name,  would  so  soon  be  exchanged  for  the  higher  duty 
which  now  justifies  me  in  adding  it !  At  the  thought  of  such 
events  the  language  of  a  tender  superstition  is  the  voice  of  na- 
ture itself,  and  those  facts  alone  presenting  themselves  to  our 
memory  which  had  left  an  impression  on  our  hearts,  we  assent 
to,  and  adopt  the  poet's  pathetic  complaint : 

"  O  Sir !  the  good  die, 


And  those  whose  hearts  are  diy  as  summer  dust 
Burn  to  the  soclvct." 

Thus  the  humane  plan  described  in  the  pages  now  referred 
to,  that  a  system  in  pursuance  of  which  the  captain  of  a  man 
of  war  uniformly  regarded  his  sentences  not  as  dependent  on  his 
own  will,  or  to  be  alTected  by  the  state  of  his  feelings  at  the 
moment,  but  as  the  pre-established  determinations  of  known 
laws,  and  himself  as  the  voice  of  the  law  in  pronouncing  the 
sentence,  and  its  delegate  in  enforcing  the  execution,  could 
not  but  furnish  occasional  food  to  the  spirit  of  detraction,  must 
be  evident  to  every  reflecting  mind.  It  is  indeed  little  less 
than  impossible,  that  he,  who  in  order  to  be  effectively  humane 
determines  to  be  inflexibly  just,  and  v.ho  is  inexorable  to  his 
own  feelings  when  they  would  interrupt  the  course  of  justice  ; 
who  looks  at  each  particular  act  by  the  light  of  all  its  conse- 


478 

quenees,  and  as  the  representative  of  ultimate  good  or  evil ; 
should  not  sometimes  be  charged  with  tyranny  by  weak  minds. 
And  it  is  too  certain  that  the  calunmny  will  be  willingly  be- 
lieved and  eagerly  propagated  by  all  those,  who  would  shun 
the  presence  of  an  eye  keen  in  the  detection  of  imposture,  in- 
capacity, and  misconduct,  and  of  a  resolution  as  steady  in  their 
exposure.  We  soon  hate  tlie  man  whose  qualities  we  dread, 
and  thus  have  a  double  interest,  an  interest  of  passion  as  well 
as  of  policy,  in  decrying  and  defaming  him.  But  good  men 
will  rest  satisfied  with  the  promise  made  to  them  by  the  divine 
Comforter,  that  by  her  children  shall  wisdom  be  justi- 
fied. 


ESSAY    IV. 


the  genci'ous  spirit,  who,  when  brought 

A.mong  the  tnsks  of  real  hfe,  hath  wrought 
Upon  the  plan  that  pleas'd  his  childish  thought: 
Whose  high  endeavors  are  an  inward  light 
That  make  the  path  before  him  always  bright; 
Who  doom'd  to  go  in  company  with  Pain, 
And  Fear  and  Bloodshed,  miserable  train  ! 
Turns  his  necessity  to  glorious  gain  ; 
By  objects,  which  might  force  the  soul  to  abate 
Her  feeling,  render  d  more  compassionate. 


Wordsworth. 


At  the  close  of  the  American  war,  Captain  Ball  was  en- 
trusted with  the  protection  and  convoying  of  an  immense  mer- 
cantile fleet  to  America,  and  by  his  great  prudence  and  unex- 
ampled attention  to  the  interests  of  all  and  eaeh,  endeared  his 
name  to  the  American  merchants,  and  laid  the  foundation  of 
that  high  respect  and  predilection  which  both  the  Americans 
and  their  government  ever  afterwards  entertained  for  him. 
My  recollection  does  not  enable  me  to  attempt  any  accura- 
cy in  the   date  or  circumstances,  or  to  add  the   particulars   of 


479 

his  services  in  the  West  Indies ;  and  on  the  coast  of  America, 
I   now    therefore   merely  allude  to   the    fact    with  a  prospec- 
tive   reference   to   opinions   and   circumstances,  which  I  shall 
have  to   mention  hereafter.     Shortly  after   the  general  peace 
was   established,    Captain   Ball,  who  was  now  a  married   man, 
passed  some  time  with  his  lady  in  France,  and,  if  I  mistake  not 
at  Nantz.     At  the   same   time,   and  in  the  same  town,  among 
the  other  English  visitors   Lord  (then   Captain)   Nelson,  hap- 
pened to  be   one.     In  consequence  of  some  punctilio,  as  to 
whose  business  it  was  to  pay  the   compliment  of  the   first  call, 
they  never  met,  and  this  trifling  affair  occasioned  a  coldness  be- 
tween  the   two  naval  commanders,  or  in  truth  a  mutual  preju- 
dice  against   each   other.     Some   years  after,  both  their  ships 
being  together   close  off  Minorca  and  near  Port  Mahon,  a  vio- 
lent  storm    nearly  disabled  Lord  Nelson's  vessel,  and  in  addi- 
tion to  the  fury  of  the  wind,  it  was  night-time  and  the  thickest 
darkness.     Captain  Ball,  however,  brought  his  vessel  at  length 
to   Nelson's   assistance,  took  his  in  tow,  and  used  his  best  en- 
deavors to  bring  her  and  his  own  vessel  into  Port  Mahon.     The 
difficulties  and  the  dangers   increased.     Nelson  considered  the 
case  of  his  own  ship  as  desperate,  and  that  unless  she  was  imme- 
diatly  left   to  her   own  fate,  both  vessels  would   inevitably  be 
lost.     He,  therefore,  with  the  generosity  natural  to  him,  repeat- 
edly requested  Captain  Bali  to  let  him  loose  ;  and   on  Captain 
Ball's  refusal,  he  became   impetuous,  and  enforced  his  demand 
with  passionate   threats.     Captain    Ball  then  himself  took  the 
speaking-trumpet,  which  the    fury  of  the  wind  and  the    waves 
rendered  necessary,  and    with  great  solemnity  and  without  the 
least  disturbance  of  temper,  called  in  reply,  "  I  feel   confident 
that  I  can  bring  you  in  safe;  I  therefore   must  not,  and,  by  the 
help  of  Almighty  God !   I  will  not  leave  you  !"     What  he  pro- 
mised  he   performed ;  and    after  they   were   safely   anchored, 
Nelson   came  on  board  of  Ball's  ship,  and  embracing  him  with 
all  the   ardor  of  acknowledgement,  exclaimed — "  a  friend   in 
need  is  a  friend   indeed  !"     At   this   time  and  on  this  occasion 
commenced  that  firm  and  perfect  friendship  between  these  two 
great  men,  which   was    interrupted   only   by  the   death  of  the 
former.     The  pleasing  task  of  dwelling  on  this  mutual  attachment 
I  defer  to  that   part   of  the   present  sketch  which  will  relate  to 
Sir  Alexander  Ball's   opinions  of  men   and   things.     It  will  be 
sufficient  for  the  present  to  say,  that  the  two  men,  whom  Lord 


480 

Nelson  especially  honored,  were  Sir  Thomas  Troubridge  and 
Sir  Alexander  Ball ;  and  once,  when  they  were  both  present, 
on  some  allusion  made  to  the  loss  of  his  arm,  he  replied, 
"  Who  shall  dare  to  tell  me  that  I  want  an  arm,  when  I  have 
three  right  arms — this  (putting  forward  his  own)  and  Ball  and 
Troubridge  ?" 

In  the  plan  of  the  battle  of  the  Nile  it  was  Lord  Nelson's  de  - 
sign,  that  Captains  Troubridge  and  Ball  should  have  led  up  the 
attack.  The  former  was  stranded  ;  and  the  latter,  by  accident 
of  the  wind,  could  not  bring  his  ship  into  the  line  of  battle  till 
some  time  after  the  engagement  had  become  general.  With 
his  characteristic  forecast  and  activity  of  (what  may  not  im- 
properly be  called)  practical  imagination,  he  had  made  arrange- 
ments to  meet  every  probable  contingency.  All  the  shrouds  and 
sails  of  the  ship,  not  absolutely  necessary  for  its  immediate  man- 
agement, were  thoroughly  wetted  and  so  rolled  up,  that  they 
were  as  hard  and  as  little  inflammable  as  so  many  solid  cylinders 
of  wood  ;  every  sailor  had  his  appropriate  place  and  function  and  a 
certain  number  were  appointed  as  the  firemen,  whose  sole  duty  it 
was  to  be  on  the  v/atch  if  any  part  of  the  vessel  should  take  fire  : 
and  to  these  men  exclusively  the  charge  of  extinguishing  it  was 
committed.  It  was  already  dark  when  he  brought  his  ship  into 
action,  and  laid  her  alongside  I'Orient.  One  particular  only  I 
shall  add  to  the  known  account  of  the  memorable  engagement 
between  these  ships,  and  this  I  received  from  Sir  Alexander 
Ball  himself.  He  had  previously  made  a  combustible  prepara- 
tion, but  which  from  the  nature  of  the  engagement  to  be  ex- 
pected, he  had  purposed  to  reserve  for  the  last  emergency.  But 
just  at  the  time  when,  from  several  S3^mptoms,  he  had  every  rea- 
son to  believe  that  the  enemy  would  soon  strike  to  him,  one  of 
the  lieutenants,  without  his  knowledge,  threw  in  the  combustible 
matter  ;  and  this  it  was  that  occasioned  the  tremendous  explo- 
sion of  that  vessel,  which,  with  the  deep  silence  and  interruption 
of  the  engagement  which  succeeded  to  it,  has  been  justly 
deemed  the  su.blimest  war  incident  recorded  in  history.  Yet 
the  incident  which  followed,  and  which  has  not,  I  believe,  been 
publicly  made  known,  is  scarcely  less  impressive,  though  its 
sublimity  is  of  a  different  character.  At  the  renewal  of  the 
battle  Captain  Ball,  though  his  ship  was  then  on  fire  in  three 
different  parts  laid  her  alongside  a  French  eighty-four :  and  a 
second  longer  obstinate  contest  began.     The  firing  on  the  part 


481 

and  then  altogether  ceased,  and  yet  no  sign  given  of  surrender, 
the  senior  lieutenant  came  to  Captain  Ball  and  informed  him, 
that  the  hearts  of  his  men  were  as  good  as  ever,  but  that  they 
were  so  completely  exhausted,  that  they  were  scarcely  capable 
of  lifting  an  arm.  He  asked,  therefore,  whether,  as  the  enemy 
had  now  ceased  firing,  the  men  might  be  permitted  to  lie  down 
by  their  guns  for  a  short  time.  After  some  reflection,  Sir  Alex- 
ander acceded  to  the  proposal,  taking  of  course  the  proper  pre- 
cautions to  rouse  them  again  at  the  moment  he  thought  requi- 
site. Accordingly,  with  the  exception  of  himself,  his  officers, 
and  the  appointed  watch,  the  ship's  crew  lay  down,  each  in  the 
place  to  which  he  was  stationed,  and  slept  for  twenty  minutes. 
They  were  then  roused  ;  and  started  up,  as  Sir  Alexander  expres- 
sed it,  more  like  men  out  of  an  ambush  than  from  sleep,  so  coin- 
stantaneously  did  they  all  obey  the  summons  !  They  recommen- 
ced their  fire,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  enemy  surrendered  ;  and 
it  was  soon  after  discovered,  that  during  that  interval,  and  almost 
immediately  after  the  French  ship  had  first  ceased  firing,  the 
crew  had  sunk  down  by  their  guns,  and  there  slept  almost  by 
the  side,  as  it  were,  of  their  sleeping  enemy. 


ESSAY    V. 


Whose  powers  shed  round  him  m  the  common  strife, 
Or  mild  concerns,  of  ordinary  hfe 
A  constant  influence,  a  peculiar  gi-ace ; 
But  who  if  he  be  call'd  upon  to  face 
Some  awful  moment,  to  which  heaven  has  join'd 
Great  issues,  good  or  bad  for  human  kind, 
Is  happy  as  a  lover,  is  attired 
With  sudden  brightness  like  a  man  inspired ; 
And  through  the  heat  of  conflict  keeps  the  law- 
la  calnmess  made,  and  sees  what  he  foresaw. 

Wordsworth. 


An  accessibility  to  the  sentiments  of  others   on  subjects  of 

importance  often  accompanies  feeble  minds,  yet  it  is  not  the  less 

a  true  and  constituent  part  of  practical  greatness,  when  it  exists 

wholly  free  from  that  passiveness  to  impression  which  renders 

CI 


482 

counsel  itself  injurious  to  certain  characters,  and  from  that  weak- 
ness of  heart  which,  in  the  literal  sense  of  the  word,  is  always 
craving  advice.     Exempt  from  all  such  imperfections,  say  rather 
in  perfect  harmony  with  the  excellencies  that  preclude  them, 
this  openness  to  the  influxes  of  good  sense  and  information,  from 
whatever  quarter  they  might  come,   equally  characterized  both 
Lord  Nelson  and  Sir  Alexander  Ball,  though  each  displayed  it 
in  the  way  best  suited  to  his  natural  temper.     The  former  with 
easy  hand  collected,  as  it  passed  by  him,  whatever  could  add  to 
his  own  stores,  appropriated  what  he  could  assimilate,  and  levied 
subsidies  of  knowledge  from  all  the  accidents  of  social  life  and 
familiar  intercourse.    Even  at  the  jovial  board,  and  in  the  height 
of  unrestrained  merriment,  a  casual  suggestion,  that  flashed  a 
new  light  on  his  mind,   changed   the   boon  companion  into  the 
hero  and  the  man  of  genius  ;  and  with  the  most  graceful  transi- 
tion he  would  make  his  company  as  serious  as  himself.     When 
the  taper  of   his  genius  seemed  extinguished,  it  was  still  sur- 
rounded by  an    inflammable  atmosphere  of  its  own  and  rekind- 
led at  the  first  approach  of  light,  and  not  seldom  at  a  distance 
which  made  it  seem  to  flame  up  self-revived.     In  Sir  Alexander 
Ball,  the   same  excellence  was  more  an   affair  of  system :  and 
he  would  listen,  even  to  weak  men  with  a  patience,  which,  in 
so  careful  an  economist  of  time,  always  demanded  my  admira- 
tion, and  not  seldom  excited   my  wonder.     It  was  one  of  his 
maxims,  that  a  man  may  suggest  what  he  cannot  give  :   adding 
that  a  wild  or  silly  plan  had  more  than  once,  from   the  vivid 
sense,  and  distinct  perception  of  its   folly,  occasioned  him  to 
see  what  ought  to  be  done  in  a  new  light,  or  with  a  clearer  in- 
sight.    There   is,  indeed,  a  hopeless  sterility,  a  mere  negation 
of  sense  and  thought,  which,  suggesting  neither  difference  nor 
contrast,  cannot  even  furnish  hints  for  recollection.     But  on 
the  other  hand,  there  are  minds  so  whimsically  constituted  that 
they  may  sometimes  be  profitably  interpreted  by  contraries,  a 
process  of  which  the  great  Tycho  Brache  is  said  to  have  avail- 
ed himself  in  the  case  of  the  little  Lackwit,  who  used  to  sit  and 
mutter  at  his  feet  while  he  was  studying.    A  mind  of  this  sort  we 
may  compare  to  a  magnetic  needle,  the  poles  of  which  had  been 
suddenly  reversed  by  a  flash  of  lightning,  or  other  more  ob- 
scure accident  of  nature.     It  may  be  safely   concluded,  that  to 
those  whose  judgment  or  information  he  respected,  Sir  Alexan- 


483 

der  Ball  did  not  content  himself  with  giving  access  and  atten- 
tion. No  !  he  seldom  failed  of  consulting  them  whenever  the 
subject  permitted  any  disclosure  ;  and  where  secrecy  was  ne- 
cessary, he  well  knew  how  to  acquire  their  opinion  without 
exciting  even  a  conjecture  concerning  his  immediate  object. 

Yet,  with  all  this  readiness  of  attention,  and  with  all  this  zeal 
in  collecting  the  sentiments  of  the  well  informed,  never  was  a 
man  more  completely  uninfluenced  by  authority  than  Sir  Alex- 
ander Ball,  never  one  who  sought  less  to  tranquillize  his  own 
doubts  by  the  mere  suffrage  and  coincidence  of  others.  The 
ablest  suggestions  had  no  conclusive  weight  with  him,  till  he 
had  abstracted  the  opinion  from  its  author,  till  he  had  reduced 
it  into  a  part  of  his  own  mind.  The  thoughts  of  o'hers  were 
always  acceptable  as  affording  him  at  least  a  chance  of  adding 
to  his  materials  for  reflection  ;  but  they  never  directed  his  judg- 
ment, much  less  superseded  it.  He  even  made  a  point  of 
guarding  against  additional  confidence  in  the  suggestions  of  his 
own  mind,  from  finding  that  a  person  of  talents  had  formed  the 
same  conviction  :  unless  the  person,  at  the  same  time,  furnished 
some  new  argument  or  had  arrived  at  the  same  conclusion  by  a 
different  road.  On  the  latter  circumstance  he  set  an  especial 
value,  and,  I  may  almost  say,  courted  the  company  and  conver- 
sation of  those,  whose  pursuits  had  least  resembled  his  own, 
if  he  thought  them  men  of  clear  and  comprehensive  faculties. 
During  the  period  of  our  intimacy,  scarcely  a  week  passed  in 
which  he  did  not  desire  me  to  think  on  some  particular  subject, 
and  to  give  him  the  result  in  writing.  Most  frequently  by  the 
time  I  had  fulfilled  his  request,  he  would  have  written  down  his 
own  thoughts,  and  then,  with  the  true  simplicity  of  a  great 
mind,  as  free  from  ostentation,  as  it  was  above  jealousy,  he 
would  collate  the  two  papers  in  my  presence,  and  never  ex- 
pressed more  pleasure  than  in  the  few  instances  in  which  I  had 
happened  to  light  on  all  the  arguments  and  points  of  view  which 
had  occurred  to  himself,  with  souie  additional  reasons  which 
had  escaped  him.  A  single  new  argument  delighted  him  more 
than  the  most  perfect  coincidence,  unless,  as  before  stated  the 
train  of  thought  had  been  very  different  from  his  own  and  yet 
just  and  logical.  He  had  one  quality  of  mind,  which  I  have 
heard  attributed  to  the  late  Mr.  Fox,  that  of  deriving  a  keen 
pleasure  from  clear  and  powerful  reasoning  for  its  own  sake,  a 


484 

quality  in  the  intellect  which  is  nearly  connected  with  veracity 
and  a  love  of  justice  in  the  moral  character.* 

Valuing  in  others  merits  which  he  himself  possessed,  Sir  Al- 
exander Ball  felt  no  jealous  apprehension  of  great  talent.  Un- 
like those  vulgar  functionaries,  whose  place  is  too  big  for  them, 
a  truth  which  they  attempt  to  disguise  from  themselves,  and 
yet  feel,  he  was  under  no  necessity  of  arming  himself  against 
the  natural  superiority  of  genius  by  factitious  contempt  and  an 
industrious  association  of  extravagance  and  impracticability, 
with  every  deviation  from  the  ordinary  routine  ;  as  the  geogra- 
phers in  the  middle  ages  used  to  designate  on  their  meagre 
maps,  the  greater  part  of  the  world,  as  desarts  or  wildernesses, 
inhabited  by  griffins  and  chimseras.  Competent  to  weigh  each 
system  or  project  by  its  own  arguments,  he  did  not  need  these 
preventive  charms  and  cautionary  amulets  against  delusion.  He 
endeavored  to  make  talent  instrumental  to  his  purposes  in  what- 
ever shape  it  appeared,  and  with  whatever  imperfections  it 
might  be  accompanied  ;  but  wherever  talent  was  blended  with 
moral  worth,  he  sought  it  out,  loved  and  cherished  it.  If 
it  had  pleased  Providence  to  preserve  his  life,  and  to  place 
him  on  the  same  course  on  which  Nelson  ran  his  race  of  glory, 
there  are  two  points  in  which  Sir  Alexander  Ball  would  most 
closely  have  resembled  his  illustrious  friend.  The  first  is,  that 
in  his  enterprizes  and  engagements  he  would  have  thought 
nothing  done,  till  all  had  been  done  that  was  possible: 

"  Nil  actum  I'eputans,  si  quid  superesset  agendum." 

The  second,  that  he  would  have  called  forth  all  the  talent  and 

*  It  may  not  be  amiss  to  add,  that  the  pleasure  from  the  perception  of  truth 
was  so  well  poised  and  regulated  by  the  equal  or  greater  delight  in  utility,  that 
his  love  of  real  accuracy  was  accompanied  with  a  proportionate  dislike  of 
that  hollow  appearance  of  it,  which  may  be  produced  by  turns  of  phrase, 
words  placed  in  balanced  antithesis  and  those  epigrannnatic  jioints  that  pass 
for  subtle  and  luminous  distinctions  with  ordinary  readers,  but  are  most  com- 
monly translatable  into  mere  truisms  or  trivialities  if  indeed  they  contain  any 
meaning  at  all.  Having  observed  in  some  casual  conversation,  that  though 
there  were  doutbless  masses  of  matter  unorganized,  I  saw  no  ground  for 
asserting  a  mass  of  unorganized  matter ;  Sir  A.  B.  paused  and  then  said  to 
me,  with  that  frankness  of  manner  which  maile  his  very  rebukes  gratifying, 
"  The  distinction  is  just;  and  now  1  understand  you,  al)undantly  obviousj  but 
hardly  worth  the  trouble  of  your  inventing  a  puzzle  of  words  to  make  it  o^v- 
pear  otherwise."     I  tnist  the  reliuke  was  not  lost  on  me. 


485 

virtue  that  existed  within  his  sphere  of  influence,  and  created 
a  band  of  heroes,  a  gradation  of  oiEcers,  strong  in  head  and 
strong  in  heart,  worthy  to  have  been  his  companions  and  his 
successors  in  fame  and  public  usefulness. 

Never  was  greater  discernment  shown  in  the  selection  of 
a  fit  agent,  than  -when  Sir  Alexander  Ball  was  stationed  off"  the 
coast  of  Malta  to  intercept  the  supplies  destined  for  the  French 
garrison,  and  to  watch  the  movements  of  the  French  com- 
manders, and  those  of  the  inhabitants  who  had  been  so  basely 
betrayed  into  their  power.  Encouraged  by  the  well-timed 
promises  of  the  English  captain,  the  INIaitese  rose  through  all 
their  casals  (or  country  towns)  and  themselves  commenced 
the  work  of  their  emancipation,  by  storming  the  citadel  at  Ci- 
vita  Vecchia,  the  ancient  metropolis  of  Malta,  and  the  central 
height  of  the  island.  Without  discipline,  without  a  military 
leader,  and  almost  without  arms,  these  brave  peasants  succeed- 
ed, and  destroyed  the  French  garrison  by  throwing  them  over  the 
battlements  into  the  trench  of  the  citadel.  In  the  course  of  this 
blockade,  and  of  the  tedious  siege  of  Vallette,  Sir  Alexander 
Ball  displayed  all  that  strength  of  character,  that  variety  and 
versatility  of  talent,  and  that  sagacity,  derived  in  part  from  ha- 
bitual circumspection,  but  which,  when  the  occasion  demand- 
ed it,  appeared  intuitive  and  like  an  instinct ;  at  the  union  of 
which,  in  the  same  man,  one  of  our  oldest  naval  commanders 
once  told  me,  "he  could  never  exhaust  his  wonder."  The 
citizens  of  Vallette  were  fond  of  relating  their  astonishment, 
and  that  of  the  French,  at  Captain  Ball's  ship  wintering  at  an- 
chor out  of  the  reach  of  the  guns,  in  a  depth  of  fathom  unex- 
ampled, on  the  assured  impracticability  of  which  the  garrison  had 
rested  their  main  hope  of  regular  supplies.  Nor  can  I  forget,  or 
remember  without  some  portion  of  my  original  feeling,  the  so- 
lemn enthusiasm  with  which  a  venerable  old  man,  belonging  to 
one  of  the  distant  casals,  showed  me  the  sea  coombe,  where 
their  father  Ball,  (for  so  they  commonly  called  him)  first 
landed  ;  and  aftervv'ards  pointed  out  the  very  place,  on  which 
he  first  stepped  on  their  island,  while  the  countenances  of  his 
townsmen,  who  accompanied  him,  gave  lively  proofs,  that  the 
old  man's  enthusiasm  was  the  representative  of  the  common 
feeling. 

There  is  no  reason  to  suppose,  that  Sir  Alexander  Ball  was 
at  any  time  chargeable  with  thai  weakness  M)  frequent  in  En- 


486 

glishmen,  and  so  injurious  to  our  interests  abroad,  of  despising 
the  inhabitants  of  other  countries,  of  losing  all  their  good 
qualities  in  their  vices,  of  making  no  allowance  for  those  vi- 
ces, from  their  religious  or  political  impediments,  and  still 
more  of  mistaking  for  vices,  a  mere  difference  of  manners  and 
customs.  But  if  ever  he  had  any  of  this  erroneous  feeling,  he 
completely  freed  himself  from  it,  by  living  among  the  Maltese 
during  their  arduous  trials,  as  long  as  the  French  continued 
masters  of  the  capital.  He  witnessed  their  virtues,  and  learnt 
to  understand  in  what  various  shapes  and  even  disguises  the 
valuable  parts  of  human  nature  may  exist.  In  many  individu- 
als, whose  littleness  and  meanness  in  the  common  intercourse 
of  life  would  have  stamped  them  at  once  as  contemptible  and 
worthless,  with  ordinary  Englishmen,  he  had  found  such  vir- 
tues of  disinterested  patriotism,  fortitude,  and  self-denial,  as 
would  have  done  honor  to  an  ancient  Roman. 

There  exists  in  England,  a  gentlemanly  character,  a  gentle- 
manly feeling,  very  different  even  from  that,  which  is  the  most 
like  it,  the  character  of  a  well-born  Spaniard,  and  unexampled  in 
the  rest  of  Europe.  This  feeling  probably  originated  in  the  for- 
tunate circumstance,  that  the  titles  of  our  English  nobility  fol- 
low the  law  of  their  property,  and  are  inherited  by  the  eldest 
sons  only.  From  this  source,  under  the  influences  of  our  con- 
stitution, and  of  our  astonishing  trade,  it  has  diffused  itself  in  dif- 
ferent modifications  through  the  Avhole  country.  The  uniformity 
of  our  dress  among  all  classes  above  that  of  the  day  laborer, 
while  it  has  authorized  all  classes  to  assume  the  appearance  of 
gentlemen,  has  at  the  same  time  inspired  the  wish  to  conform 
their  manners,  and  still  more  their  ordinary  actions  in  social 
intercourse,  to  their  notions  of  the  gentlemanly,  the  most  com- 
monly received  attribute  of  which  character,  is  a  certain  gener- 
osity in  trifles.  On  the  other  hand,  the  encroachments  of  the 
lower  classes  on  the  higher,  occasioned,  and  favored  by  this 
resemblance  in  exteriors,  by  this  absence  of  any  cognizable 
marks  of  distinction,  have  rendered  each  class  more  reserved 
and  jealous  in  their  general  communion,  and  far  more  than  our 
climate,  or  natural  temper,  have  caused  that  haughtiness  and  re- 
serve in  our  outward  demeanor,  which  is  so  generally  complain- 
ed of  among  foreigners.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  depreciate  the 
value  of  this  gentlemanly  feeling :  I  respect  it  under  all  its 
forms  and  varieties,  from  the  House  of  Commons  to  the  gentle- 


487 

men  in  the  one  shilling  gallery.  It  is  always  the  ornament  of 
virtue,  and  oftentimes  a  support ;  but  it  is  a  wretched  substitute 
for  it.  Its  worthy  as  a  moral  good,  is  by  no  means  in  proportion 
to  its  value,  as  a  social  advantage.  These  observations  are  not 
irrelevant :  for  to  the  want  of  reHxion,  that  this  diffusion  of 
gentlemanly  feeling  among  us,  is  not  the  growth  of  our  moral  ex- 
cellence, but  the  effect  of  various  accidental  advantages  peculiar 
to  England  ;  to  our  not  considering  that  it  is  unreasonable  and  un- 
charitable to  expect  the  same  consequences,  where  the  same 
causes  have  not  existed  to  produce  them  :  and,  lastly,  to  our 
proneness  to  regard  the  absence  of  this  character  (which,  as  I 
have  before  said,  does,  for  the  greater  part,  and,  in  the  common 
apprehension,  consist  in  a  certain  frankness  and  generosity  in 
the  detail  of  action)  as  decisive  against  the  sum  total  of  personal 
or  national  worth  ;  we  must,  I  am  convinced,  attribute  a  large 
portion  of  that  conduct,  which  in  many  instances  has  left  the  in- 
habitants of  countries  conquered  or  appropriated  by  Great  Bri- 
tain, doubtful  whether  the  various  solid  advantages  which  they 
derived  from  our  protection  and  just  government,  were  not 
bought  dearly  by  the  wounds  inflicted  on  their  feelings  and  pre- 
judices, by  the  contemptuous  and  insolent  demeanor  of  the  En- 
glish as  individuals.  The  reader  who  bears  this  remark  in 
mind,  will  meet,  in  the  course  of  this  narration,  more  than  one; 
passage  that  will  serve  as  its  comment  and  illustration. 

It  was,  I  know,  a  general  opinion  among  the  English  in  the 
Mediterranean,  that  Sir  Alexander  Ball  thought  too  well  of  the 
Maltese,  and  did  not  share  in  the  enthusiasm  of  Britons,  concern- 
ing their  own  superiority.     To  the  former  part  of  the    charge,  I 
shall   only  reply  at  present,  that  a  more   venial,  and  almost  de- 
sirable fault,  can  scarcely  be  attributed  to  a  governor,  than  that 
of   a  strong   attachment  to  the   people  whom  he  was  sent  to 
govern.     The   latter   part  of  the   charge  is   false,  if  we  are  to 
understand  by  it,  that  he  did  not  think  his  countrymen  superior 
on  the  whole  to  the  other  nations  of  Europe  ;  but  it  is  true,  as  far 
;  as  relates  to  his  belief,  that  the  English  thought  themselves  still 
;  better  than  they  are  ;  that  they  dwelt  on,  and  exaggerated  their 
national  virtues,   and   weighed   them   by   the  opposite  vices  of 
foreigners,  instead  of  the  virtues  which   those    foreigners  pos- 
sessed, and  they  themselves  wanted.     Above  all,  as  statesmen, 
I  we  must  consider  qualities  by  their   practical  uses.     Thus — he 
j  entertained   no   doubt,  that  the  English   were   superior  to  all 


488 

others  in  the  kind,  and  the  degree  of  their  courage,  which  is 
marked  by  far  greater  enthusiasm,  than  the  courage  of  the  Ger- 
mans and  northern  nations,  and  by  a  far  greater  steadiness  and 
selfsubsistence,  than  that  of  the  French.  It  is  more  closely 
connected  with  the  character  of  the  individual.  The  coura«"e  of 
an  English  army  (he  used  to  say)  is  the  sum  total  of  the  courage 
which  the  individual  soldiers  bring  with  them  to  it,  rather  than 
of  that  which  they  derive  from  it.  This  remark  of  Sir  Alex- 
ander's was  forcibly  recalled  to  ray  mind,  when  I  was  at  Na- 
ples. A  Russian  and  an  English  regiment  were  drawn  up  to- 
gether in  the  same  square — "  See,"  said  a  Neapolitan  to  me, 
who  had  mistaken  me  for  one  of  his  countrymen,  "  there  is  but 
one  face  in  that  whole  regiment  while  in  thaV  (pointing  to 
the  English)  "  every  soldier  has  a  face  of  his  own."  On  the 
other  hand,  there  are  qualities  scarcely  less  requisite  to  the 
completion  of  the  military  character,  in  which  Sir  A.  did  not 
hesitate  to  think  the  English  inferior  to  the  continental  nations : 
as  for  instance,  both  in  the  power  and  tiie  disposition  to  endure 
privations  ;  in  the  friendly  temper  necessary,  when  troops  of 
different  nations  are  to  act  in  concert ;  in  their  obedience  to 
the  regulations  of  their  commanding  othcers,  respecting  the 
treatment  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  countries  through  which 
they  are  marching ;  as  well  as  in  many  other  points,  not  imme- 
diately connected  with  their  conduct  in  the  field  :  and,  above 
all,  in  sobriety  and  temperance.  During  the  siege  of  Vallette, 
especially  during  the  sore  distress  to  which  the  besiegers  were 
for  some  time  exposed  from  the  failure  of  provision,  Sir  Alex- 
ander Ball  had  an  ample  opportunity  of  observing  and  weigh- 
ing the  separate  merits  and  demerits  of  the  native,  and  of 
the  English  troops  ;  and  surely  since  the  publication  of  Sir  John 
Moore's  campaign,  there  can  be  no  just  offence  taken,  though 
I  should  say,  that  before  the  walls  of  Vallette,  as  well  as  in 
the  plains  of  Gallicia,  an  indignant  commander  might,  with  too 
great  propriety,  have  addressed  the  English  soldiery  in  the 
words  of  an  old  Dramatist — 

Will  you  still  owe  your  virtues  to  your  bellies  ? 
And  only  then  think  nobly  when  y'are  full? 
Doth  fodder  keep  you  honest?     Arc  you  bad 
WIkui  out  of  Flesh  ?     And  think  you't  an  excuse 
Of  vile  and  ij^nojuinious  actions,  that 
Y'  are  lean  and  out  of  liking  ? 

Cartwright's  Lovers  Convert. 


I 


489 

From  the  first  insurrectionary  movement  to  the  final  depart- 
ure of  the  French  from  the  Island,  though  the  civil  and  milita- 
ry powers  and  the  whole  of  the  Island,  save  Vallette,  were  in 
the  hands  of  the  peasantry,  not  a  single  act  of  excess  can  be 
charged  against  the   Maltese,  if  we  except  the  razing  of  one 
house  at  Civita  Vecchia  belonging  to   a  notorious  and  abandon- 
ed traitor,  the  creature  and  hireling  of  the  French.     In  no  in- 
stance did  they  injure,  insult,  or  plunder,   any  one  of  the  na- 
tive nobility,  or  employ  even  the  appearance  of  force  toward 
them,  except  in  the  collection  of  the  lead  and  iron  from  their 
houses  and  gardens,  in  order  to   supply  themselves  with  bul- 
lets :  and  this  very  appearance  v.^as  assumed  from  the  gener- 
ous wish   to   shelter  the  nobles  from    the   resentment  of  the 
French,  should  the  patriotic  efforts  of  the  peasantry  prove  un- 
successful.    At  the  dire  command  of  famine  the  Maltese  troops 
did  indeed  once   force   their  way  to   the  ovens,  in  which  the 
bread  for  the  British  soldiery  was  baked,  and  were  clamorous 
that  an  equal  division  should  be  made.     I  mention  this  unpleas- 
ant circumstance,  because  it  brought  into  proof  the  firmness  of 
Sir  Alexander  Ball's  character,  his  presence  of  mind,  and  gen- 
erous disregard  of  danger  and  personal  responsibility,  where 
the  slavery  or  emancipation,  the  misery  or  the  happiness,  of  an 
innocent  and  patriotic  people  were  involved  ;  and  because  his 
conduct  in   this   exigency  evinced,  that  his  general  habits  of 
circumspection    and   deliberation  were  the  result  of  wisdom 
and   complete  self-possession,  and  not  the  easy  virtues   of  a 
spirit  constitutionally  timorous  and  hesitating.     He  was  sitting 
at  table  with  the  principal  British  officers,  when  a  certain  gen- 
eral addressed  him  in  strong  and  violent  terms  concerning  this 
outrage  of  the  Maltese,  reminding  him  of  the  necessity  of  ex- 
erting his   commanding  influence   in   the  present   case,  or  the 
consequences  must  be  taken.     "What,"  replied  Sir  Alexander 
Ball,   "  would  you  have  us  do  ?     Would  you  have  us  threaten 
death  to  men  dying  with   famine  ?     Can  you   suppose  that  the 
hazard  of  being  shot  will  weigh  with  whole  regiments  acting 
under  a  common  necessity  ?     Does  not  the   extremity  of  hun- 
ger take  away  all  difference  between  men  and  animals  ?  and  is 
it  not  as  absurd  to  appeal  to   the  prudence  of  a   body  of  men 
starving,  as  to  a  herd  of  famished  wolves  ?     No,  general,  I  will 
not  degrade    myself  or   outrage  humanity  by  menacing   famine 
with  massacre  !    More  effectual  means  must  be  taken."     With 

62 


490 

these  words  he  rose  and  left  the  room,  and  having  first  consult- 
ed with    Sir  Thomas  Troubridge,  he  determined   at  his  own 
risk  on  a  step,   wiiich   the   extreme   necessity  warranted,   and 
which  the  conduct  of  the  Neapolitan  court  amply  justified.     For 
this  court,  though  terrror-stricken  by  the  French,  was  still  ac- 
tuated by  hatred  to  the  English,  and  a  jealousy  of  their  pow- 
er in  the  Mediterranean  :  and  this  in  so  strange  and  senseless 
a  manner,  that  we  must  join   the   extremes  of  imbecility  and 
treachery  in  the  same  cabinet,  in  order  to  find  it  comprehensi- 
ble.*    Though  the   very  existence   of  Naples  and  Sicily,  as  a 
nation,  depended  Avholely  and  exclusively  on  British  support ; 
though  the  royal  family  owed  their  personal  safety,  to  the  Brit- 
ish fleet;  though  not  only  their  dominions  and  their  rank,  but 
the  liberty  and  even  the  lives   of  Ferdinand  and    his  family, 
w^ere  interwoven  with  our  success ;   yet  with  an  infatuation 
scarcely  credible,  the  most  affecting  representations  of  the  dis- 
tress of  the  besiegers,  and  of  the  utter  insecurity  of  Sicily  if 
the  French  remained  possessors  of  Malta,  were  treated  with  ne- 
glect ;    and  the  urgent  remonstrances  for  the  permission  of  im- 
porting corn  from  Messina,  were  answered  only  by  sanguinary 
edicts  precluding  all  supply.     Sir  Alexander  Ball  sent  for  his 
senior  lieutenant,  and  gave  him  orders  to  proceed  immediately 
to  the  port  of  Messina,  and  there  to  seize  and  bring  with  him 
to  Malta  the  ships   laden   with   corn,   of  the   number  of  which 
Sir  Alexander  had  received  accurate  information.     These  or- 
ders were  executed  without  delay,  to  the  great  delight  and 
profit  of  the  ship  owners  and  proprietors ;  the  necessity  of  rai- 
sing the  siege  was  removed  ;    and  the   author  of  the  measure 


*It  cannot  be  doubted,  that  the  sovereign  himself  was  kept  in  a  state  of 
delusion.  Both  his  understanding  and  his  moral  principles  are  far  better  than 
could  reasonably  be  expected  from  the  infamous  mode  of  his  education :  if 
indeed  the  systematic  preclusion  of  all  knowledge,  and  the  unrestrained  in- 
dulgence of  his  passions,  adopted  by  the  Spanish  court  for  the  purposes  of 
preserving  him  dependent,  can  be  called  by  the  name  of  education.  Of 
the  otlicr  influencing  persons  in  the  Neapolitan  government,  Blr.  Leckie  has 
given  us  a  true  and  lively  account.  It  will  be  greatly  to  the  advantage  of  the 
present  narration,  if  the  reader  should  have  previously  perused  Mr.  Leckie's 
pamphlet  on  the  state  of  Sicily:  the  facts  which  I  shall  have  occasion  to 
mention  hereafter  will  reciprocally  confirm  and  be  confirmed  by  the  docu- 
ments furnished  in  that  most  interesting  Avork  ;  in  which  I  see  l)ut  one  blem- 
ish of  importance,  namely,  that  the  author  appears  too  frequently  to  consider 
justice  and  tiue  policy  as  capabable  of  being  contradistinguislied. 


491 

wafted  in  calmness  for  the  consequences  that  might  result  to 
himself  personally.  But  not  a  complaint,  not  a  murmur  pro- 
ceeded from  the  court  of  Naples.  The  sole  result  was,  that 
the  governor  of  Malta  became  an  especial  object  of  its  hatred, 
its  fear,  and  its  respect. 

The  whole  of  this  tedious  siege,  from  its  commencement  to  the 
signing  of  the  capitulation,  called  forth  into  constant  activity 
the  rarest  and  most  difficult  virtues  of  a  commanding  mind ; 
virtues  of  no  show  or  splendor  in  the  vulgar  apprehehsion,  yet 
more  infallible  characteristics  of  true  greatness  than  the  most 
unequivocal  displays  of  enterprize  and  active  daring.  Scarce- 
ly a  day  passed,  in  which  Sir  Alexander  Ball's  patience,  for- 
bearance, and  inflexible  constancy,  were  not  put  to  the  severest 
trial.  He  had  not  only  to  remove  the  misunderstandings  that 
arose  between  the  Maltese  and  their  allies,  to  settle  the  differ- 
ences among  the  Maltese  themselves,  and  to  organize  their 
efforts:  he  was  likewise  engaged  in  the  more  difficult  and  un- 
thankful task  of  counteracting  the  weariness,  discontent,  and 
despondency,  of  his  own  countrymen — a  task  however,  which 
he  accomplished  by  management  and  address,  and  an  alternation 
of  real  firmness  with  apparent  yielding.  During  many  months 
he  remained  the  only  Englishman  who  did  not  think  the  siege 
hopeless  and  the  object  worthless.  He  often  spoke  of  the 
time  in  which  he  resided  at  the  country  seat  of  the  grand  master 
at  St.  Antonio,  four  miles  from  Vallette,  as  perhaps  the  most 
trying  period  of  his  life.  For  some  weeks  Captain  Vivian  was 
his  sole  English  companion,  of  whom,  as  his  partner  in  anxiety, 
he  always  expressed  himself  with  affectionate  esteem.  Sir  Al- 
exander Ball's  presence  was  absolutely  necessary  to  the  Mal- 
tese, who,  accustomed  to  be  governed  by  him,  became  incapable 
of  acting  in  concert  without  his  immediate  influence.  In  the 
out-burst  of  popular  emotion,  the  impulse,  which  produces  an 
insurrection,  is  for  a  brief  while  its  sufficient  pilot  f  the  attrac- 
tion constitutes  the  cohesion,  and  the  common  provocation,  sup- 
plying an  immediate  object,  not  only  unites,  but  directs,  the 
multitude.  But  this  first  impulse  had  passed  away,  and  Sir  Al- 
exander Ball  was  the  one  individual  who  possessed  the  general 
confidence.  On  him  they  relied  with  implicit  faith  :  and  even 
after  they  had  long  enjoyed  the  blessings  of  British  government 
and  protection,  it  was  still  remarkable  with  what  child-like  help- 
lessness they  were  in  the  habit  of  applying  to  him,  even  in 


492 

their  private  concerns.  It  seemed  as  if  they  thought  him  made 
on  purpose  to  think  for  them  all.  Yet  his  situation  at  St.  An- 
tonio was  one  of  great  peril :  and  he  attributed  his  preservation 
to  the  dejection,  wiuch  had  now  begun  to  prey  on  the  spirits 
of  the  French  garrison,  and  which  rendered  them  unenterpri- 
zing  and  almost  passive,  aided  by  the  dread  which  the  nature 
of  the  country  inspired.  For  subdivided  as  it  was  into  small 
fields,  scarcely  larger  than  a  cottage  garden,  and  each  of  these 
little  squares  of  land  enclosed  with  substantial  stone  walls ; 
these  too  from  the  necessity  of  having  the  fields  perfectly  level, 
rising  in  tiers  above  each  other;  the  whole  of  the  inhabited  part 
of  the  island  was  an  eflfective  fortification  for  all  the  purposes 
of  annoyance  and  offensive  warfare.  Sir  Alexander  Ball  exer- 
ted himself  successfully  in  procuring  information  respecting  the 
state  and  temper  of  the  garrison,  and  by  the  assistance  of  the 
clergy  and  the  almost  universal  fidelity  of  the  Maltese,  contriv- 
ed that  the  spies  in  the  pay  of  the  French  should  be  in  truth 
his  own  most  confidential  agents.  He  had  already  given  splen- 
did proofs  that  he  could  outfight  them  ;  but  here,  and  in  his  af- 
ter diplomatic  intercourse  previous  to  the  recommencement  of 
the  war,  he  likewise  out-witted  them.  He  once  told  me  with 
a  smile,  as  we  were  conversing  on  the  practice  of  laying  wa- 
gers, that  he  was  sometimes  inclined  to  think  that  the  final 
perseverance  in  the  siege  was  not  a  little  indebted  to  several 
valuable  bets  of  his  own,  he  well  knowing  at  the  time,  and 
from  information  which  himself  alone  possessed,  that  he  should 
certainly  lose  them.  Yet  this  artifice  had  a  considerable  effect 
in  suspending  the  impatience  of  the  officers,  and  in  supplying 
topics  for  dispute  and  conversation.  At  length,  however,  the 
two  French  frigates,  the  sailing  of  which  had  been  the  subject 
of  these  wagers,  left  the  great  harbour  on  the  24th  of  August, 
1800,  with  a  part  of  the  garrison:  and  one  of  them  soon  be- 
came a  piizc  to  the  English.  Sir  Alexander  Ball  related  to 
me  the  circumstances  which  occasioned  the  escape  of  the  oth- 
er ;  but  I  do  not  reccollect  them  with  sufficient  acuracy  to  dare 
repeat  them  in  this  place.  On  the  15th  of  September  follow- 
ing, the  capitulation  was  signed,  and  after  a  blockade  of  two 
years  the  English  obtained  possession  of  Valette,  and  remain- 
ed masters  of  the  whole  island  and  its  dependencies. 

Anxious  not  to  give  offence,  but  more  anixous  to   communi- 
cate the  truth,  it  is  not  without  pain  that  I  find  myself  under 


493 

the  moral  obligation  of  remonstrating  against  the  silence  con- 
cerning Sir  Alexander  Ball's  services  or  the  transfer  of  them 
to  others.  More  than  once  has  the  latter  roused  my  indigna- 
tion in  the  reported  speeches  of  the  house  of  Commons ;  and 
as  to  the  former,  I  need  only  state  that  in  Rees's  Cyclopsedia 
there  is  an  historical  article  of  considerable  length  under  the 
word  Malta,  in  which  vSir  Alexander's  name  does  not  once  oc- 
cur !  During  a  residence  of  eighteen  months  in  that  island,  I 
possessed  and  availed  myself  ot  the  best  possible  means  of 
information,  not  only  from  eye-witnesses,  but  likewise  from 
the  principal  agents  themselves.  And  I  now  thus  publicly  and 
unequivocally  assert,  that  to  Sir  A.  Ball  pre-eminently — and  if 
I  had  said,  to  Sir  A.  Ball  alone,  the  ordinary  use  of  the  word 
under  such  circumstances  would  bear  me  out — the  capture  and 
the  preservation  of  Malta  was  owing,  with  every  blessing  that 
a  powerful  mind  and  a  wise  heart  could  confer  on  its  docile 
and  grateful  inhabitants.  With  a  similar  pain  I  proceed  to 
avow  my  sentiments  on  this  capitulation,  by  which  Malta  was 
delivered  up  to  his  Britannic  Majesty  and  allies,  without  the 
least  mention  made  of  the  Maltese.  With  a  warmth  honorable 
both  to  his  head  and  his  heart.  Sir  Alexander  Ball  pleaded,  as 
not  less  a  point  of  sound  policy  than  of  plain  justice,  that  the 
Maltese,  by  some  representatives,  should  be  made  a  party  in 
the  capitulation,  and  a  joint  subscriber  in  the  signature.  They 
had  never  been  the  slaves  or  the  property  of  the  knights  of  St. 
John,  but  freemen  and  the  true  landed  proprietors  of  the  coun- 
try, the  civil  and  military  government  of  which,  under  certain 
restrictions,  had  been  vested  in  that  order;  yet  checked  by  the 
rights  and  influences  of  the  clergy  and  the  native  nobility,  and 
by  the  customs  and  ancient  laws  of  the  island.  This  trust  the 
knights  had,  with  the  blackest  treason  and  the  most  profligate 
perjury,  betrayed  and  abandoned.  The  right  of  government  of 
of  course  reverted  to  the  landed  proprietors  and  the  clergy. 
Animated  by  a  just  sense  of  this  right,  the  Maltese  had  risen 
of  their  own  accord,  had  contended  for  it  in  defiance  of  death 
and  danger,  had  fought  bravely,  and  endured  patiently.  With- 
out undervaluing  the  military  assistance  afterwards  furnished 
by  Great  Britain  (though  how  scanty  this  was  before  the  arrival 
of  General  Pigot  is  well  known,)  it  remained  undeniable,  that 
the  Maltese  had  taken  the  greatest  share  both  in  the  fatigues 
and  in  the  privations  consequent  on  the   siege  ;    and   that  had 


494 

not  the  greatest  virtues  and  the  most  exemplary  fidelity  been 
uniformly  displayed  by  them,  the  English  troops    (they  not  be- 
ing more  numerous  than  they  had  been  for  the  greater  part  of 
the  two  years)    could  not  possibly  have   remained   before   the 
fortifications  of  Valette,  defended  as  that  city  was  by  a  French 
garrison,  that  greatly  outnumbered  the  British  besiegers.     Still 
less  could  there  have  been  the  least  hope  of  ultimate  success  ; 
as  if  any  part  of  the  Maltese  peasantry  had  been  friendly  to  the 
French,  or   even  indifterent,  if  they  had  not  all  indeed  been 
most  zealous  and  persevering  in  their  hostility  towards  them,  it 
would  have  been  impracticable  so  to  blockade  that  island  as  to 
have  precluded  the  arrival  of  supplies.     If  the  seige  had  pro- 
ved unsuccessful,    the    Maltese    were    well    aware    that   they 
should  be  exposed  to  all  the  horrors  which  revenge  and  woun- 
ded pride  could  dictate  to  an  unprincipled,  rapacious,  and  san- 
guinary soldiery  ;  and  now  that  success  has  crowned  their  ef- 
forts,  is  this  to  be  their  reward,  that  their  own  allies  are   to 
bargain   for    theni    with  the    French    as  for    a    herd  of   slaves, 
whom  the  French  had  before  purchased  from  a  former  proprie- 
tor ?     If  it  be  urged,  that  there  is  no  established  government 
in  Malta,  is  it  not  equally  true,  that  through  the  whole  popu- 
lation of  the  island  there  is  not  a  single  disentient  ?    and  thus 
that  the  chief  inconvenience,  which  an  established  authority  is 
to  obviate,  is  virtually  removed  by  the   admitted  fact  of  their 
unanimity  ?     And  have  they  not  a  bishop,  and  a  dignified  cler- 
gy, their  judges   and   municipal    magistrates,   who   were   at  all 
times  sharers  in  the  power  of  the  government,  and  now,  sup- 
ported   by  the  unanimous   suffrage   of  the  inhabitants,   have  a 
rightful  claim  to  be  considered  as  its  representatives  ?   Will  it 
not  be  oftener  said  than  answered,  that  the  main  difference  be- 
tween French  and  English  injustice  rests  in  this  point  alone, 
that  the  French  seized  on  the   Maltese  without  any  previous 
pretences  of  friendship,  while  the  English  procured  possession 
of  the  island  by  means  of  their  friendly  promises,  and  by  the 
co-operation   of  the  natives  afforded  in   confident  reliance  on 
these  promises  ?    -The   impolicy  of  refusing   the   signature   on 
the  part  of  the   Maltese  was  equally  evident :    since  such  re- 
fusal could  answer  no  one  purpose  but  that  of  alienating  their 
affections  by  a  wanton  insult  to  their  feelings.     For  the  Mal- 
tese were  not  only  ready  but  desirous  and  eager  to  place  them- 
selves at  the  same  time  under  British  protection,  to  take  the 


495 

oaths  of  loyalty  as  subjects  of  the  British  crown,  and  to  ac- 
knowledge their  island  to  belong  to  it.  These  representations, 
however,  were  over-ruled  :  and  I  dare  allirm,  from  my  own 
experience  in  the  Mediterranean,  that  our  conduct  in  this  in- 
stance, added  to  the  impression  which  had  been  made  at  Cor- 
sica, Minorca,  and  elsewhere,  and  was  often  referred  to  by 
men  of  reflection  in  Sicily,  who  have  more  than  once  said  to 
me,  "  a  connection  with  Great  Britain,  with  the  consequent 
extension  and  security  of  our  commerce,  are  indeed  great  bless- 
ings :  but  who  can  rely  on  their  permanence  ?  or  that  we  shall 
not  be  made  to  pay  bitterly  for  our  zeal  as  partizans  of  En- 
gland, whenever  it  shall  suit  its  plans  to  deliver  us  back  to  our 
old  oppressors?" 


ESSAY   VI. 


The  way  of  ancient  ordinance,  though  it  vviiuls 

Is  yet  no  devious  way.     Straight  forward  goes 

Tlie  hghtning's  path  ;  and  straight  the  fearful  path 

Of  the  cannon-hall.     Direct  it  flies  and  rapid, 

Shattering  that  it  may  reach,  and  shattering  what  it  reaches. 

My  son!  the  road,  the  human  heing  travels. 

That  on  which  Bi-essixg  comes  and  goes,  doth  follow 

The  river's  course,  the  valley's  playful  windings. 

Curves  round  the  coi-n-field  and  the  hill  of  vines. 

Honoring  the  holy  hounds  of  property! 

There  exists 

An  hijfher  than  the  Avarrior's  excellence. 


Walle^vsteii^. 


Captain  Ball's  services  in  Malta  were  honored  will  his 
sovereign's  approbation,  transmitted  in  a  letter  from  the  Secreta- 
ry Dundasand  with  a  baronetcy.     A  thousand  pounds  *  were  at 

*  I  scai'ce  know  whether  it  be  worth  mentioning,  that  this  sum  remained 
undemanded  till  the  spring  of  the  year  1805  :  at  which  time  the  writer  of 
these  sketches,  during  an  examination  of  the  treasuiy  accounts,  observed  the 
circumstance  and  uoticcd  it  to  the  Governor,  who  had  suflered  it  to  escape 


496 

the  same  time  directed  to  be  paid  him  from  the  Maltese  trea- 
sury. The  best  and  most  appropriate  addition  to  the  applause 
of  his  king  and  his  country,  Sir  Alexander  Ball  found  in  the 
feelings  and  faithful  affection  of  the  Maltese.  The  enthusiasm 
manifested  in  reverential  gestures  and  shouts  of  triumph  when- 
ever their  friend  and  deliverer  appeared  in  public,  was  the  ut- 
terance of  a  deep  feeling,  and  in  no  wise  the  mere  ebullition  of 
animal  sensibility  ;  which  is  not  indeed  a  part  of  the  Maltese 
character.  The  truth  of  this  observation  will  not  be  doubted 
by  any  person,  who  has  witnessed  the  religious  processions  in 
honor  of  the  favorite  saints,  both  at  Vallette  and  at  Messina 
or  Palermo,  and  who  must  have  been  struck  with  the  contrast 
between  the  apparent  apathy,  or  at  least  the  perfect  sobriety, 
of  the  Maltese,  and  the  fanatical  agitations  of  the  Sicilian  po- 
pulace. Among  the  latter  each  man's  soul  seems  hardly  con- 
tainable in  his  body,  like  a  prisoner,  whose  jail  is  on  fire,  flying 
madly  from  one  barred  outlet  to  another ;  while  the  former 
might  suggest  the  suspicion,  that  their  bodies  were  on  the 
point  of  sinking  into  the  same  slumber  with  their  under- 
standings. But  their  political  deliverance  was  a  thing  that 
came  home  to  their  hearts,  and  intertwined  with  their  most 
empassioned  recollections,  personal  and  patriotic.  To  Sir  Al- 
exander Ball  exclusively  the  Maltese  themselves  attributed 
their  emancipation  :  on  him  too  they  rested  their  hopes  of  the 
future.  Whenever  he  appeared  in  Vallette,  the  passengers  on 
each  side,  through  the  whole  length  of  the  street  stopped,  and 
remained  uncovered  till  he  had  psssed  :  the  very  clamors  of  the 


altogether  from  his  memory,  for  the  latter  years  at  least.  The  value  attach- 
ed to  the  present  by  tlie  receiver,  must  have  depended  on  his  construction 
of  its  purpose  and  meaning:  for  in  a  pecuniaiy  point  of  view,  the  sum  was 
not  a  moiety  of  what  Sir  Ah  xandcr  had  exj)endcd  from  his  private  fortune 
during  the  blockade.  IJis  immediate  appointment  to  the  government  of 
the  island,  so  earnestly  prayed  for  by  the  Maltese,  would  doubtless  have  furnislj- 
ed  a  less  questionable  proof  that  his  services  were  as  highly  estimated  by  the 
rninsitry  as  they  were  graciously  accepted  by  his  sovereign.  But  this  was 
withheld  as  long  as  it  remained  possible  to  doubt,  wliether  great  talents,  join- 
ed to  local  experience,  and  the  confidence  and  affection  of  the  inhabitants, 
miglit  not  be  dispensed  with  in  the  person  entrusted  with  that  government. 
Crimen  ingrati  animi  quod  magnis  Ingeniis  hand  raro  objicitur,  ssepius  nil 
aliud  est  quam  persjMcacia  (juaedam  m  causam  beneficii  collati.  See  VVal- 
l,ENSTEii>J,  Part  I.  p.  177. 


497 

market-place  were  hushed  at  his  entrance,  and  then  exchanged 
for  shouts  of  joy  and  welcome.  Even  after  the  lapse  of  years 
he  never  appeared  in  any  one  of  their  casais,*  which  did  not 
lie  in  the  direct  road  between  Vallette  and  St.  Antonio,  his 
summer  residence,  but  the  women  and  children,  with  such  of 
the  men  who  were  not  at  labor  in  their  fields,  fell  into  ranks, 
and  followed,  or  preceded  him,  singing  the  Maltese  song  which 
had  been  made  in  his  honor,  and  which  was  scarcely  less  fami- 
liar to  the  inhabitants  of  Malta  and  Goza,  than  God  save  the 
King  to  Britons.  W/ien  he  went  to  the  gate  through  the  cityj 
the  young  men  refrained  talking  ;  and  the  aged  arose  and  stood 
up.  When  the  ear  heard,  then  it  blessed  him  ;  and  ivhen  the  eye 
saw  him,  it  gave  witness  to  him  :  because  he  delivered  the  poor 
that  cried,  and  the  fatherless,  and  those  that  had  none  to  help 
them.  The  blessing  of  them  that  were  ready  to  perish  come 
upon'^iim  ;  and  he  caused  the  ividow'^s  heart  to  sing  for  joy. 

These  feelings  were  afterwards  amply  justified  by  his  admin- 
istration of  the  government ;  and  the  very  accesses  of  their 
gratitude  on  their  first  deliverance  proved,  in  the  end,  only  to 
be  acknowledgments  antedated.  For  some  time  after  the  de- 
parture of  the  French,  the  distress  was  so  general  and  so  se- 
vere, that  a  large  proportion  of  the  lower  classes  became 
mendicants,  and  one  of  the  greatest  thorough  fares  of  Vallette 
still  retains  the  name  of  the  "  Nix  Mangiare  Stairs,''''  from 
the  crowd  who  used  there  to  assail  the  ears  of  passengers  with 
cries  of  "  nix  mangiare,"  or  "  nothing  to  eat,"  the  former  word 
nix  being  the  low  German  pronunciation  of  nichts,  nothing. 
By  what  means  it  was  introduced  into  Malta,  I  know  not  ;  but 
it  became  the  common  vehicle  both  of  solicitation  and  refusal, 
the  Maltese  thinking  it  an  English  word,  and  the  English  sup- 
posing it  to  be  Maltese.  I  often  felt  it  as  a  pleasing  remembrancer 
of  the  evil  day  gone  by,  when  a  tribe  of  little  children,  quite 
naked,  as  is  the  custom  of  that   climate,   and    each   with  a  pair 


*  It  was  the  Governor's  custom  to  visit  every  casal  throughout  the  island 
once,  if  not  twice,  in  the  course  of  each  summer  ;  and  during  my  residence 
there,  I  had  the  honor  of  being  his  constant,  and  most  often,  his  only  com- 
panion in  these  rides  ;  to  which  I  owe  some  of  the  happiest  and  most  instruc- 
tive hours  of  my  life.  In  the  poorest  house  of  the  most  distant  casal  two 
rude  paintings  were  sure  to  be  found :  A  picture  of  the  Virgin  and  Child  ; 
and  a  portrait  of  Sir  Alexander  Ball. 
63 


498 

of  gold  ear-rings  in  its  ears,  and  all  fat  and  beautifully  propor- 
tiojied,  would  suddenly  leave  their  play,  and,  looking  round  to 
see  that  their  parents  were  not  in  sight,  change  their  shouts  of 
merriment  for  "  nix  mangiare  /"  awkwardly  imitating  the 
plaintive  tones  of  mendicancy  ;  while  the  white  teeth  in  their 
little  swarthy  faces  gave  a  splendor  to  the  happy  and  confes- 
sing laugh,  with  which  they  received  the  good-humored  re- 
buke or  refusal,  and  ran   back  to  their  former  sport. 

In  the  interim   between  the  capitulation  of  the  French  garri- 
son and  Sir  Alexander  Ball's  appointment  as  his  Majesty's  civil 
commissioner  for  Malta,  his  zeal  for  the  Maltese  was   neither 
suspended   nor    unproductive   of   important   benefits.     He  wais 
enabled  to  remove  many  prejudices  and  misunderstandings  ;  and 
to  persons  of  no  inconsiderable  influence  gave  juster  notions  of 
the  true    importance  of  the   island   to  Great  Britain.     He  dis- 
played the   magnitude  of  the  trade  of  the  Mediterranean   in  its 
existing  state  ;  showed  the  immense  extent  to  which  it  might  be 
carried,  and  the  hollowness  of  the  opinion,   that  this  trade  was 
attached  to  the  south  of  France  by   any  natural  or  indissoluble 
bond  of  connection.     I  have  some  reason  likewise  for  believing, 
that  his  wise  and  patriotic  representations  prevented  Malta  from 
being  made  the  seat  and  pretext  for  a  numerous  civil  establish- 
ment, in  hapless  imitation   of  Corsica,  Ceylon,   and   the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope.     It  was  at  least  generally  rumoured,  that  it  had 
been  in  the  contemplation  of  the  ministry  to  appoint   Sir  Ralph 
Abercrombie   as  governor,  with  a  salary   of  10,000Z.    a    year; 
and  to  reside   in    England,   while  one    of  his   countrymen  was 
to    be    the    lieutenant-governor,  at  5,000Z.    a   year ;    to  which 
were    added    a    long  et  cetera  of   other  offices  and   places  of 
proportional  emolument.     This  threatened  appendix  to  the  state 
calendar  may  have    existed  only  in  the    imaginations  of  the  re- 
porters, yet  inspired  some  uneasy  apprehensions  in   the    minds 
of  many  well-wishers  to  the  Maltese,  who  knew  that — for  a 
foreign  settlement  at  least,  and  one   too  possessing   in    all   the 
ranks  and  functions  of  society  an  ample  population  of  its  own — 
such  a  stately  and  wide-branching  tree  of  patronage,  though  de- 
lightful to  the  individuals   who   are  to   pluck  its   golden  apples, 
sheds,  like  the  manchinecl,   unwholesome  and   corrosive   dews 
on  the  multitude  who  are   to  rest   beneath   its   shade.     It  need 
not  hov.'cvcr,  be  doubted,  that  Sir  Alexander  Ball  would  exert 
himself  to  preclude  any  such  intention,  by  stating  and  evincing 


499 

the  extreme  impolicy  r>nd  injustice  of  the  plan,  as  well  as  its 
utter  inutility,  in  the  case  of  Malta.  With  the  exception  of  the 
governor,  and  of  the  puhlic  secretary,  hothof  whom  undoubtedly 
should  be  natives  of  Great  Britain,  and  appointed  by  the  British 
government,  there  was  no  civil  office  that  could  be  of  the  remo- 
test advantage  to  the  island  which  was  not  already  filled  by  the 
natives  and  the  functions  of  which  none  could  perform  so  well  as 
they.  The  number  of  inhabitants  (he  would  state)  was  prodi- 
gious compared  with  the  extent  of  the  island,  though  from  the 
fear  of  the  Moors  one-fourth  of  its  surface  remained  unpeopled 
and  uncultivated.  To  deprive,  therefore,  the  middle  and  low- 
er classes  of  such  places  as  they  had  been  accustomed  to 
hold,  would  be  cruel  ;  while  the  places  held  by  the  no- 
bility, were,  for  the  greater  part,  such  as  none  but  natives 
could  perform  the  duties  of.  By  any  innovation  we  should 
affront  the  higher  classes  and  alienate  the  affections  of  all, 
not  only  without  any  imaginable  advantage  but  with  the  cer- 
tainty of  great  loss.  Were  Englishmen  to  be  employed,  the 
salaries  must  be  increased  four-fold,  and  would  yet  be  scarce- 
ly worth  acceptance  ;  and  in  higher  offices  such  as  those  of 
the  civil  and  criminal  judges,  the  salaries  must  be  augment- 
ed more  than  ten-fold.  For,  greatly  to  the  credit  of  their 
patriotism  and  moral  character,  the  Maltese  gentry  sought 
these  places  as  honorable  distinctions,  which  endeared  them  to 
their  fellow-countrymen,  and  at  the  same  time  rendered  the 
yoke  of  the  order  somewhat  less  grievous  and  galling.  With 
the  exception  of  the  Maltese  secretarj',  whose  situation  was  one 
of  incessant  labor,  and  who  at  the  same  time  performed  the 
duties  of  law  counsellor  to  tiie  government,  the  highest  salaries 
scarcely  exceeded  lOOl.  a  year,  and  were  barely  sufficient  to 
defray  the  increased  expenses  of  the  functionaries  for  an  addi- 
tional equipage,  or  one  of  more  imposing  appearance.  Besides, 
it  was  of  importance  that  the  person  placed  at  the  head  of  that 
government,  should  be  looked  up  to  by  the  natives,  and  possess 
the  means  of  distinguishing  and  rewarding  those  who  had  been 
most  faithful  and  zealous  in  their  attachment  to  Great  Britain, 
and  hostile  to  their  former  tyrants.  The  number  of  the  em- 
ployments to  be  conferred  would  give  considerable  influence 
to  his  Majesty's  civil  representative,  while  the  trifling  amount 
of  the  emolument  attached  to  each  precluded  all  temptation  of 
abusing  it. 


500 

Sir  Alexander  Ball  would  likewise,  it  is  probable,  urge  that 
the  commercial  advantages  of  Malta,  which  were  most  intelli- 
gible to  the  English  public,  and  best  fitted  to  render  our  reten- 
tion of  the  island  popular,  must  necessarily  be  of  very  slow 
growth,  though  finally  they  would  become  great,  and  of  an  ex- 
tent not  to  be  calculated.  For  this  reason,  therefore,  it  was 
highly  desirable,  that  the  possession  should  be,  and  appear  to 
be,  at  least  inexpensive.  After  the  British  Government  had 
made  one  advance  for  a  stock  of  corn  sufficient  to  place  the 
island  a  year  before-hand,  the  sum  total  drawn  from  Great 
Britain  need  not  exceed  25,  or  at  most  30,000/.  annually ;  ex- 
eluding  of  course  the  expenditure  connected  with  our  own 
military  and  navy,  and  the  repair  of  the  fortifications,  which 
latter  expense  ought  to  be  much  less  than  at  Gibraltar,  from 
the  multitude  and  low  wages  of  the  laborers  in  Malta,  and  from 
the  softness  and  admirable  quality  of  the  stone.  Indeed  much 
more  might  safely  be  promised  on  the  assumption,  that  a  wise 
and  generous  system  of  policy  were  adopted  and  persevered 
in.  The  monopoly  of  the  Maltese  corn-trade  by  the  govern- 
ment formed  an  exception  to  a  general  rule,  and  by  a  strange, 
yet  valid,  anomaly  in  the  operations  of  political  economy,  was 
not  more  necessary  than  advantageous  to  the  inhabitants.  The 
chief  reason  is,  that  the  produce  of  the  island  itself  bp'  „ly 
suffices  for  one-fourth  of  its  inhabitants,  although  fruits  ana  vege- 
tables form  so  large  a  part  of  their  nourishment.  Meantime 
the  harbors  of  Malta,  and  its  equi-distance  from  Europe,  Asia, 
and  Africa,  gave  it  a  vast  and  unnatural  importance  in  the  pre- 
sent relations  of  the  great  European  powers,  and  imposed  on 
its  government,  whether  native  or  dependent,  the  necessity  of 
considering  the  whole  island  as  a  single  garrison,  the  provis- 
ioning of  which  could  not  be  trusted  to  the  casualties  of  ordi- 
nary commerce.  What  is  actually  necessary  is  seldom  injuri- 
ous. Thus  in  Malta  bread  is  better  and  cheaper  on  an  aver- 
age than  in  Italy  or  the  coast  of  Barbary  :  while  a  similar  in- 
terference with  the  corn  trade  in  Sicily  impoverishes  the  inha- 
bitants and  keeps  the  agriculture  in  a  state  of  barbarism.  But 
the  point  in  question  is  the  expense  to  Great  Britain.  Wheth- 
er the  monopoly  be  good  or  evil  in  itself,  it  remains  true,  that 
in  this  established  usage,  and  in  the  gradual  enclosure  of  the 
uncultivated  district,  such  resources  exist  as  without  the  least 
oppression  might  render  the  civil  government  in  Valette  inde- 


501 

pendent  of  the  Treasury  at  home,  finally  taking  upon  itself 
even  the  repair  of  the  fortifications,  and  thus  realize  one  in- 
stance of  an  important  possession  that  cost  the  country  noth- 
ing. 

But  now  the  time  arrived,  wliich  threatened  to  frustrate  the 
patriotism  of  the  Maltese  themselves  and  all  the  zealous  efforts 
of  their  disinterested  friend.  Soon  after  the  war  had  for  the 
first  time  become  indisputably  just  and  necessary,  the  people 
at  large  and  a  majority  of  independent  senators,  incapable,  as 
it  might  seem,  of  translating  their  fanatical  anti-jacobinism  into 
a  well  grounded,  yet  equally  impassioned,  anti-Gallicanism, 
grew  impatient  for  peace,  or  rather  for  a  name^  under  which 
the  most  terrific  of  all  war  would  be  incessantly  waged  against 
us.  Our  conduct  was  not  much  wiser  than  that  of  the  weary 
traveller,  who  having  proceeded  half  way  on  his  journey,  pro- 
cured a  short  rest  for  himself  by  getting  up  behind  a  chaise 
which  was  going  the  contrary  road.  In  the  strange  treaty  of 
Amiens,  in  which  we  neither  recognized  our  former  relations 
with  France  or  with  the  other  European  powers,  nor  formed 
any  new  ones,  the  compromise  concerning  Malta  formed  the 
prominent  feature  :  and  its  nominal  re-delivery  to  the  Order  of 
St.  John  was  authorized  in  the  mind  of  the  people,  by  Lord 
Nelson's  opinion  of  its  worthlessness  to  Great  Britain  in  a  po- 
litical or  naval  view.  It  is  a  melancholy  fact,  and  one  that  must 
often  sadden  a  reflective  and  philanthropic  mind,  how  little  moral 
considerations  weigh  even  with  the  noblest  nations,  how  vain 
are  the  strongest  appeals  to  justice,  humanity,  and  national  hon- 
or, unless  v.'hen  the  public  mind  is  under  the  immediate  influ- 
ence of  the  cheerful  or  vehement  passions,  indignation  or  av- 
aricious hope.  In  the  whole  class  of  human  infirmities  there 
is  none,  that  makes  such  loud  appeals  to  prudence^  and  yet  so, 
frequently  outrages  its  plainest  dictates,  as  the  spirit  of  fear. 
The  worst  cause  conducted  in  hope  is  an  overmatch  for  the  no- 
blest managed  by  despondence  :  in  both  cases  an  unnatural 
conjunction  that  recals  the  old  fable  of  Love  and  Death,  taking 
each  the  arrows  of  the  other  by  mistake.  When  islands  that 
had  courted  British  protection  in  reliance  upon  British  honor, 
are  with  their  inhabitants  and  proprietors  abandoned  to  the  re- 
sentment w'iich  we  had  tempted  them  to  provoke,  what  wonder, 
if  the  opinion  becomes  general,  that  alike  to  England  as  to 
France,  the  fates  and  fortunes  of    other  nations   are  but  the 


502 

counters,  with  which  the  bloody  game  of  war  is  played  :  and 
that  notwithstanding  the  great  and  acknowledged  difference  be- 
tween the  two  governments  during  possession,  yet  the  protec- 
tion of  France  is  more  desirable  because  it  is  more  likely  to 
endure  ?  for  what  the  French  take,  they  keep.  Often  both  in 
Sicily  and  ^Malta  have  I  heard  the  case  of  Minorca  referred  to, 
where  a  considerable  portion  of  the  most  respectable  gentry 
and  merchants  (no  provision  having  been  made  for  their  pro- 
tection on  the  re-delivery  of  that  island  to  Spain)  expiated  in 
dungeons  the  warmth  and  forwardness  of  their  predilection  for 
Great  Britain. 

It  has  been  by  some  persons  imagined,  that  Lord  Nelson  was 
considerably  influenced,  in  his  public  declaration  concerning 
the  value  of  Malta,  by  ministerial  flattery,  and  his  own  sense 
of  the  great  serviceableness  of  that  opinion  to  the  persons  in 
ofiice.  This  supposition  is,  however,  wholly  false  and  ground- 
less. His  lordship's  opinion  was  indeed  greatly  shaken  after- 
wards, if  not  changed  ;  but  at  that  time  he  spoke  in  strictest  cor- 
respondence with  his  existing  convictions.  He  said  no  more 
than  he  had  often  previously  declared  to  his  private  friends  :  it 
was  the  point  on  which,  after  some  amicable  controversy,  his 
lordship  and  Sir  Alexander  Ball  had  '■'■agreed  to  differ''\  Though 
the  opinion  itself  may  have  lost  the  greatest  part  of  its  inter- 
est, and  except  for  the  historian  is,  as  it  were,  superannuated; 
yet  the  grounds  and  causes  of  it,  as  far  as  they  arose  out  of 
Lord  Nelson's  particular  character,  and  may  perhaps  tend  to 
re-enliven  our  recollection  of  a  hero  so  deeply  and  justly  be- 
loved, will  for  ever  possess  an  interest  of  their  own.  In  an 
essay,  too,  which  purports  to  be  no  more  than  a  series  of 
sketches  and  fragments,  the  reader,  it  is  hoped,  will  readily  ex- 
cuse an  occasional  digression,  and  a  more  desultory  style  of 
narration  than  could  be  tolerated  in  a  work  of  regular  biography. 

Lord  Nelson  was  an  admiral  every  inch  of  him.  He  looked 
at  every  thing,  not  merely  in  its  possible  relations  to  the  na- 
val service  in  general,  but  in  its  immediate  bearings  on  his 
squadron  ;  to  his  officers,  his  men,  to  the  particular  ships  them- 
selves, his  affections  were  as  strong  and  ardent  as  those  of  a 
lover.  Hence,  though  his  temper  was  constitutionally  irritable 
and  uneven,  yet  never  was  a  commander  so  enthusiastically 
loved  by  men  of  all  ranks,  from  the  Captain  of  the  fleet  to  the 
youngest  ship-boy.     Hence  too  the  unexampled  harmony  which 


503 

reigned  in  his  fleet,  year  after  year,  under  circumstances  that 
might  well  have  undermined  the  patience  of  the  best-balanced 
dispositions,  much  more  of  men  with  the  impetuous  character  of 
British  sailors.       Year  after    year,  the  same  dull  duties  of  a 
wearisome   blockade,   of  doubtful   policy — little   if  any   oppor- 
tunity of  making  prizes  ;  and  the   few  prizes,  Avhich   accident 
might  throw  in  the  way,  of  little  or  no  value — and  when  at  last 
the  occasion   presented  itself  which  would  have  compensated 
for  all,  then  a  disappointment   as   sudden  and   unexpected  as  it 
was  unjust   and   cruel,   and  the  cup  dashed  from  their  lips  ! — 
Add  to  these   trials  the  sense  of  enterprizes  checked  by  fee- 
bleness and  timidity  elsewhere,  not   omitting  the  tiresomeness 
of  the  Mediterranean  sea.  sky,  and  climate  ;  and  the  unjarring 
and   cheerful   spirit   of  affectionate   brotherhood,  which  linked 
together  the   hearts  of  that   whole   squadron,  will   appear   not 
less  wonderful  to  us  than  admirable  and  affecting.     When  the 
resolution  was  taken   of  commencing  hostilities  against  Spain^ 
before  any  intelligence  was  sent  to   Lord  Nelson,  another  ad- 
miral,  with   two  or  three   ships  of  the  line,  was  sent  into  the 
Mediterranean,    aud   stationed  before    Cadiz,    for   the  express 
purpose  of  intercepting  the  Spanish  prizes.     The  admiral  dis- 
patched on  this   lucrative  service  gave  no  information   to  Lord 
Nelson  of  his  arrival  in  the  same  sea,  and  five  weeks  elapsed 
before   his  lordship  became  acquainted  with  the  circumstances. 
The  prizes  thus  taken  were  immense.     A  month  or  two  sufficed 
to  enrich  the   commander  and  officers  of  this  small  and  highly- 
favored  squadron  :  while  to  Nelson  and  his  fleet  the  sense  of  hav- 
ing done  their  duty,  and  the  consciousness  of  the  glorious  ser- 
vices  which   they  had  performed,  were  considered,  it  must  be 
presumed,  as   an   abundant   remuneration  for  all  their  toils  and 
long   suffering!     It  was   indeed   an   unexampled  circumstance, 
that  a  small  squadron   should  be  sent  to  the  station   which   had 
been  long  occupied  by  a  large  fleet,  commanded  by  the  darling  of 
the  navy,   and   the   glory  of  the  British  empire,    to  the  station 
where  this   fleet  had   for  years  been  wearing  away  in  the  most 
barren,  repulsive,  and  spirit-trying  service,  in  which  the    navy 
can   be   employed  !  and   that  this   minor    squadron   should    be 
sent  independent  ol,  and  without  any  communication  with   the 
commander  of  the   former   fleet,   for  the   express  and    solitary 
purpose  of  stepping  between  it  and  the  Spanish   prizes,  and  as 
soon  as  this  short  and  pleasant  service  was  performed,  of  bring- 


604 

ing  home  the  unshared  booty  with  all  possible  caution  and  dis- 
patch. The  substantial  advantages  of  naval  service  were  per- 
haps deemed  of  too  gross  a  nature  for  men  already  rewarded 
with  the  grateful  affections  of  their  own  countrymen,  and  the 
admiration  of  the  whole  world  !  They  were  to  be  awarded, 
therefore,  on  a  principle  of  compensation  to  a  commander  less 
rich  in  fame,  and  whose  laurels,  though  not  scant}^,  were  not 
yet  sufficiently  luxuriant  to  hide  the  golden  crown,  which  is  the 
appropriate  ornament  of  victory  in  the  bloodless  war  of  com- 
mercial capture  !  Of  all  the  wounds  which  were  ever  inflicted 
on  Nelson's  feelings  (and  there  were  not  a  few),  this  was  the 
deepest  !  this  rankled  most .'  "  I  had  thought," (said  the  gallant 
man,  in  a  letter  written  on  the  first  feelings  of  the  affront) — "  I 
fancied — but  nay,  it  must  have  been  a  dream,  an  idle  dream — 
yet,  1  confess  it,  1  did  fancy,  that  I  had  done  my  country  service — 
and  thus  they  use  me.  It  was  not  enough  to  have  robbed  me 
once  before  of  my  West-India  harvest — now  they  have  taken 
away  the  Spanish — and  under  what  circumstances,  and  with 
what  pointed  aggravations  !  Yet,  if  I  know  my  ow- n  thoughts, 
it  is  not  for  myself,  or  on  my  own  account  chiefly,  that  I  feel 
the  sting  and  the  disappointment  ;  no  !  it  is  for  my  brave  officers  ! 
for  my  noble-minded  friends  and  comrades — such  a  gallant  set 
of  fellows  !  such  a  band  of  brothers  !     My  heart  swells  at  the 

thought  of  them  !" ■ 

This  strong  attachment  of  the  heroic  admiral  to  his  fleet, 
faithfully  repaid  by  an  equal  attachment  on  their  part  to  their 
admiral,  had  no  little  influence  in  attuning  their  hearts  to  each 
other  ;  and  when  he  died  it  seemed  as  if  no  man  was  a  stran- 
ger to  another  :  for  all  were  made  acquaintances  by  the  rights 
of  a  common  anguish.  In  the  fleet  itself,  many  a  private  quar- 
rel was  forgotten,  no  more  to  be  remembered  ;  many,  who  had 
been  alienated,  became  once  more  good  friends  ;  yea,  many  a 
one  was  reconciled  to  his  very  enemy,  and  loved,  and  (as  it 
were)  thanked  him,  for  the  bitterness  of  his  grief,  as  if  it  had 
been  an  act  of  consolation  to  himself  in  an  intercourse  of  pri- 
vate sympathy.  The  tidings  arrived  at  Naples  on  the  day  that 
I  returned  to  that  city  from  Calabria  :  and  never  can  I  forget 
the  sorrow  and  consternation  that  lay  on  every  countenance. 
Even  to  this  day  there  are  times  when  I  seem  to  see,  as  in  a 
vision,  separate  groupes  and  individual  faces  of  the  picture. 
Numbers  stopped  and  shook  hands  with  me,  because  they  had 


$05 

seen  the  tears  on  my  cheek,  and  conjectured,  that  1  was  an  En- 
glishman ;  and  several,  as  they  held  my  hand,  burst,  themselves, 
into  tears.  And  though  it  may  awake  a  smile,  yet  it  pleased 
and  affected  me,  as  a  proof  of  the  goodness  of  the  human  heart 
struggling  to  exercise  its  kindness  in  spite  of  prejudices  the 
most  obstinate,  and  eager  to  carry  on  its  love  and  honor  into 
the  life  beyond  life,  that  it  was  whispered  about  Naples,  that 
Lord  Nelson  had  become  a  good  Catholic  before  his  death. 
The  absurdity  of  the  fiction  is  a  sort  of  measurement  of  the 
fond  and  affectionate  esteem  which  had  ripened  the  pious  wish 
of  some  kind  individual  through  all  the  gradations  of  possibility 
and  probability  into  a  confident  assertion  believed  and  affirmed 
by  hundreds.  The  feelings  of  Great  Britain  on  this  awful 
event,  have  been  described  well  and  worthily  by  a  living  poet, 
who  has  happily  blended  the  passion  and  wild  transitions  of  lyric 
song  with  the  swell  and  solemnity  of  epic  narration. 


Thou  art  fall'n  !  fall'n,  in  the  lap 

Of  victory.     To  thy  country  thou  cam'st  back, 
Thou  conqueror,  to  triumphal  Albion  cam'st 
A  corse  !     I  saw  before  tliy  hearse  pass  on 
The  comrades  of  thy  perils  and  renown. 
The  fi'equent  tear  upon  their  dauntless  breasta 
Fell.     I  beheld  the  pomp  thick  gather'd  round 
The  trophy' d  car  that  bore  thy  grac'd  remains 
Thro'  arm'd  ranks,  and  a  nation  gazing  on. 
Bright  glow'd  the  sun,  and  not  a  cloud  distain'd 
Heaven's  arch  of  gold,  but  all  was  gloom  beneath. 
A  holy  and  untterable  pang 
Thrill'd  on  the  soul.     Awe  and  mute  anguish  fell 
On  all. — Yet  high  the  public  bosom  throbb'd 
With  triumph.    And  if  one,  'mid  that  vast  pomp, 
If  but  the  voice  of  one  bad  shouted  forth 
The  name  of  Nelson  :  Thou  hadst  past  along, 
Thou  in  thy  hearse  to  burial  past,  as  ofl 
Before  the  van  of  battle,  proudly  rode 
Thy  prow,  down  Britain's  hne,  shout  after  shout 
Rending  the  air  with  triumph,  ere  thy  hand 
Had  lanc'd  the  bolt  of  victory. 

SOTHEBY  {Saul,  p.  80.) 

I  introduced    this  digression  with   an  apology,  yet  have  ex- 
tended so  much  further  than  I  had  designed,   that  I  must  once 
more  request  my  reader  to  excuse  me.     It  was  to  be  expected 
64 


506 

(I  have  said)  that  Lord  Nelson  would  appreciate  the  isle  of 
Malta  from  its  relations  to  the  British  fleet  on  the  Mediterra- 
nean station.  It  was  the  fashion  of  the  day  to  style  Egypt  the 
key  of  India,  and  Malta  the  key  of  Egypt.  Nelson  saw  the 
hoUowness  of  this  metaphor :  or  if  he  only  doubted  its  appli- 
cability in  the  former  instance,  he  was  sure  that  it  was  false  in 
the  latter.  Egypt  might  or  might  not  be  the  key  of  India ;  but 
Malta  was  certainly  not  the  key  of  Egypt.  It  was  not  intend- 
ed to  keep  constantly  two  distinct  fleets  in  that  sea ;  and  the 
largest  naval  force  at  Malta  would  not  supersede  the  necessity 
of  a  squadron  oif  Toulon.  Malta  does  not  lie  in  the  direct 
course  from  Toulon  to  Alexandria :  and  from  the  nature  of 
the  winds  (taking  one  time  with  another)  the  comparative 
length  of  the  voyage  to  the  latter  port  will  be  found  far  less 
than  a  view  of  the  map  would  suggest,  and  in  truth  of  little 
practical  importance.  If  it  were  the  object  of  the  French  fleet 
to  avoid  Malta  in  its  passage  to  Egypt,  the  port-admiral  at  Val- 
lette  would  in  all  probability  receive  his  first  intelligence  of 
its  course  from  Minorca  or  the  squadron  off  Toulon,  instead  of 
communicating  it.  In  what  regards  the  refitting  and  provis- 
ioning of  the  fleet,  either  on  ordinary  or  extraordinary  occa- 
sions, Malta  was  as  inconvenient  as  Minorca  was  advantage- 
ous, not  only  from  its  distance  (which  yet  was  suflicient  to 
render  it  almost  useless  in  cases  of  the  most  pressing  necessi- 
ty, as  after  a  severe  action  or  injuries  of  tempest)  but  likewise 
from  the  extreme  difficulty,  if  not  impracticability,  of  leaving 
the  harbour  of  Valette  with  a  N.  W.  wind,  which  often  lasted 
for  weeks  together.  In  all  these  points  his  lordship's  observa- 
tions were  perfectly  just :  and  it  must  be  conceded  by  all  per- 
sons acquainted  with  the  situation  and  circumstances  of  Malta, 
that  its  importance,  as  a  British  possession,  if  not  exaggerated 
on  the  whole,  was  unduly  magnified  in  several  important  par- 
ticulars. Thus  Lord  Minto,  in  a  speech  delivered  at  a  county 
meeting  and  afterwards  published,  affirms,  that  supposing  ( what 
no  one  could  consider  as  unlikely  to  take  place)  that  the  court 
of  Naples  should  be  compelled  to  act  under  the  influence  of 
France,  and  that  the  Barbary  powers  were  unfriendly  to  us  ei- 
ther in  consequence  of  French  intrigues  or  from  their  own  ca- 
price and  insolence,  there  would  not  be  a  single  port,  harbor, 
bay,  creek,  or  road-stead  in  the  whole  Mediterranean,  from 
which  our  men  of  war  could  obtain  a  single  ox  or  an  hogshead 


507 

of  fresh  water :  unless  Great  Britain  retained  possession  of 
Malta.  The  noble  speaker  seems  not  to  have  been  aware,  that 
under  the  circumstances  supposed  by  him,  Odessa  too  being 
closed  against  us  by  a  Russian  war,  the  island  of  Malta  itself 
would  be  no  better  than  a  vast  almshouse  of  75,000  persons, 
exclusive  of  the  British  soldiery,  all  of  whom  must  be  regu- 
larly supplied  with  corn  and  salt  meat  from  Great  Britain  or 
Ireland,  The  population  of  Malta  and  Goza  exceeds  100,000  : 
while  the  food  of  all  kinds  produced  on  the  two  islands  would 
barely  suffice  for  one-fourth  of  that  number.  The  deficit  is 
procured  by  the  growth  and  spinning  of  cotton,  for  which  corn 
could  not  be  substituted  from  the  nature  of  the  soil,  or  were  it 
attempted,  would  produce  but  a  small  proportion  of  the  quan- 
tity which  the  cotton  raised  on  the  same  fields  and  spun*  into 
thread,  enables  the  Maltese  to  purchase,  not  to  mention  that 
the  substitution  of  grain  for  cotton  would  leave  half  of  the  in- 
habitants without  employment.  As  to  live  stock,  it  is  quite  out 
of  the  question,  if  we  except  the  pigs  and  goats,  which  per- 
form the  office  of  scavengers  in  the  streets  of  Valette  and  the 
towns  on  the  other  side  of  the  Porto  Grande. 

Against  these  arguments  Sir  A.  Ball  placed  the  following 
considerations.  It  had  been  long  his  conviction,  that  the  Medi- 
terranean squadron  should  be  supplied  by  regular  store- 
ships,  the  sole  business  of  which  should  be  that  of  carriers  for 
the  fleet.  This  he  recommended  as  by  far  the  most  economic 
plan,  in  the  first  instance.  Secondly,  beyond  any  other  it 
would  secure  a  system  and  regularity  in  the  arrival  of  supplies. 
And,  lastly,  it  would  conduce  to  the  discipline  of  the  navy, 
and  prevent  both  ships  and  officers  from  being  out  of  the  way 
on  any  sudden  emergence.     If  this  system  were   introduced, 

*  The  Maltese  cotton  is  naturally  of  a  deep  buff,  or  dusky  orange  color,  and 
by  the  laws  of  the  island,  must  be  spun  before  it  can  be  exported.  I  have 
heard  it  asserted,  by  persons  apparently  well  informed  on  the  subject,  that 
the  raw  material  would  fetch  as  high  a  price  as  the  thread,  weight  for 
weight:  the  thread  from  its  coarseness  being  aj)plicab!e  to  few  j)iir])oses.  It 
is  manufactured  likewise  for  the  use  of  the  natives  themselves  into  a  coarse 
nankin,  which  never  loses  its  color  l»y  washing,  and  is  durable  beyond  any 
cloathing  I  have  ever  known  or  heard  of.  The  cotton  sec»l  is  used  as  a  luod 
for  the  cattle  that  are  not  immecUately  wanted  for  the  market:  it  is  very  nu- 
tritious, but  changes  the  fat  of  the  animal  into  a  kind  oi'  euct,  congealing 
quickly,  of  an  adhesive  substance. 


508 

the  objections  to  Malta,  from  its  great  distance,  &c.  would 
have  little  force.  On  the  other  hand,  the  objections  to  Min- 
orca he  deemed  iiremoveable.  The  same  disadvantages  which 
attended  the  getting  out  of  the  harbor  of  Vallette,  applied  to 
vessels  getting  into  Port  Mahon  ;  but  while  fifteen  hundred  or 
two  thousand  British  troops  might  be  safely  entrusted  with  the 
preservation  of  Malta,  the  troops  for  the  defence  of  Minorca 
must  ever  be  in  proportion  to  those  which  the  enemy  may  be 
supposed  likely  to  send  against  it.  It  is  so  little  favored  by 
nature  or  by  art,  that  the  possessors  stood  merely  on  the  level 
with  the  invaders.  Caeteris  paribus,  if  there  12,000  of  the 
enemy  landed,  there  must  be  an  equal  number  to  repel  them  ; 
nor  could  the  garrison,  or  any  part  of  it  be  spared  for  any  sud- 
den emergence  without  risk  of  losing  the  island.  Previously 
to  the  battle  of  Marengo,  the  most  earnest  representations 
were  made  to  the  governor  and  commander  at  Minorca,  by  the 
British  admiral,  who  offered  to  take  on  himself  the  whole  re- 
sponsibility of  the  measure,  if  he  would  permit  the  troops  at 
Minorca  to  join  our  allies.  The  governor  felt  himself  com- 
pelled to  refuse  his  assent.  Doubtless,  he  acted  wisely,  for  re- 
sponsibility is  not  transferable.  The  fact  is  introduced  in  proof 
of  the  defenceless  state  of  Minorca,  and  its  constant  liability 
to  attack.  If  the  Austrian  Army  had  stood  in  the  same  rela- 
tion to  eight  or  nine  thousand  British  soldiers  at  Malta,  a  sin- 
gle regiment  would  have  precluded  all  alarms,  as  to  the  island 
itself,  and  the  remainder  have  perhaps  changed  the  destiny  of 
Europe.  What  might  not,  almost  I  would  say,  what  must  not 
eight  thousand  Britons  have  accomplished  at  the  battle  of  Ma- 
rengo, nicely  poised  as  the  fortunes  of  the  two  armies  are  now 
known  to  have  been  ?  Minorca  too  is  alone  useful  or  desirable 
during  a  war,  and  on  the  supposition  of  a  fleet  off  Toulon. 
The  advantages  of  Malta  are  permanent  and  national.  As  a 
second  Gibraltar,  it  must  tend  to  secure  Gibraltar  itself;  for  if 
by  the  loss  of  that  one  place  we  could  be  excluded  from  the 
Mediterranean,  it  is  difficult  to  say  what  sacrifices  of  blood  and 
treasure  the  enemy  would  deem  too  high  a  price  for  its  con- 
quest. Whatever  Malta  may  or  may  not  be  respecting  Egypt, 
its  high  importance  to  the  independence  of  Sicily  cannot  be 
doubted,  or  its  advantages,  as  a  central  station,  for  any  portion 
of  our  disposable  force.  Neither  is  the  influence  which  it 
will  enable  us  to   exert  on  the   Barbary  powers,  to  be  wholly 


509 

neglected.  I  shall  only  add,  that  during  the  plague  at  Gibral- 
ter,  Lord  Nelson  himself  acknowledged  that  he  began  to  see 
the  possession  of  Malta  in  a  different  light. 

Sir  Alexander  Ball  looked  forward  to  future  contingencies 
as  likely  to  increase  the  value  of  Malta  to  Great  Britain.  He 
foresaw  that  the  whole  of  Italy  would  become  a  French  pro- 
vince, and  he  knew,  that  the  French  government  had  been 
long  intriguing  on  the  coast  of  Barbary.  The  Uey  of  Algiers 
was  believed  to  have  accumulated  a  treasure  of  fifteen  millions 
sterling,  and  Buonaparte  had  actually  duped  him  into  a  treaty, 
by  which  the  French  were  to  be  permitted  to  erect  a  fort  on 
the  very  spot  where  the  ancient  Hippo  stood,  the  choice  be- 
tween which  and  the  Hellespont  as  the  site  of  New  Rome,  is 
said  to  have  perplexed  the  judgment  of  Constantino.  To  this 
he  added  an  additional  point  of  connection  with  Russia,  by 
means  of  Odessa,  and  on  the  supposition  of  a  war  in  the  Baltic, 
a  still  more  interesting  relation  to  Turkey,  and  the  Morea,  and 
the  Greek  islands. — It  has  been  repeatedly  signified  to  the  Brit- 
ish government,  that  from  the  Morea  and  the  countries  adjacent, 
a  considerable  supply  of  ship  timber  and  naval  stores  might  be 
obtained,  such  as  would  at  least  greatly  lessen  the  pressure  of 
a  Russian  war.  The  agents  of  France  were  in  full  activity  in 
the  Morea  and  the  Greek  islands,  the  possession  of  which,  by 
that  government,  would  augment  the  naval  resources  of  the 
French  to  a  degree  of  which  few  are  aware,  who  have  not  made 
the  present  state  of  commerce  of  the  Greeks,  an  <  bject  of  par- 
ticular attention.  In  short,  if  the  possession  of  Malta  were  ad- 
vantageous to  England  solely  as  a  convenient  watch-tower,  as  a 
centre  of  intelligence,  its  importance  would  be   undeniable. 

Although  these  suggestions  did  not  prevent  the  signing  away 
of  Malta  at  the  peace  of  Amiens,  they  doubtless  were  not  with- 
out effect,  when  the  ambition  of  Buonaparte  had  given  a  full 
and  final  answer  to  the  grand  question  :  can  we  remain  in  peace 
with  France  ?  I  have  likewise  reason  to  believe,  that  Sir  Alex- 
ander Ball,  baffled  by  exposing  an  insidious  proposal  of  the 
French  government,  during  the  negociations  that  preceded  the 
re-commencement  of  the  war — that  the  fortifications  of  Malta 
should  be  entirely  dismantled,  and  the  island  left  to  its  inhabi- 
tants. Without  dwelling  on  the  obvious  inhumanity  and  flagi- 
tious injustice  of  exposing  the  Maltese  to  certain  pillage  and 
slavery,  from  their  old  and  inveterate  enemies,  the  Moora,  h« 


510 

showed  that  the  plan  would  promote  the  interests  of  Buonaparte 
even  more  than  his  actual  possession  of  the  islands,  which 
France  had  no  possible  interest  in  desiring,  except  as  the  means 
of  keeping  it  out  of  the  hands  of  Great  Britain. 

But  Sir  Alexander  Ball  is  no  more.  The  writer  still  clings 
to  the  hope,  that  he  may  yet  be  enabled  to  record  his  good 
deeds  more  fully  and  regularly  ;  that  then  with  a  sense  of  com- 
fort not  without  a  subdued  exultation,  he  may  raise  heavenward 
from  his  honored  tomb  the  glistening  eye  of  an  humble,  but 
ever  grateful  Friend. 


n 


L.-.',\: 


"^'y^mn 


3  1158  00850  1586 


/  -/"= 


; 


7 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


